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Death March

"Crucify him!" they shouted all the more.



"The whip stings my back; my flesh is torn. Have I any left? These shackles are becoming too heavy."

My feet tread the rocky road.

"The cold that bit my flesh now is heaven compared to the breath of hell in this cell of spells."

The nail is driven in on my right.

"The glass cut my face with his strike."

The nail is driven in on my left.

"The arrow sinks deep into my enemy's heart."

The nail is driven into my feet.

"The bullet stung."

My heart is bursting. The separation is great.

"My child! Don't take him!"

Hot tears stream down my face. No sooner did these things settle in my head, did visions in color appear.

Your smile, your voice 'round my table.

For the sins of the world, I lay me down.

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