No longer a mystery, the empty tomb,
Any more than the Cross' Saving grace,
For some it spelt a never looming DOOM,
But to us a certain hope to face,
The death which all would dread,
But which must be the cup we drain.
Any more than the Cross' Saving grace,
For some it spelt a never looming DOOM,
But to us a certain hope to face,
The death which all would dread,
But which must be the cup we drain.
AT last the House of rot must empty be.
The Crux of IT, the Sound from its within.
The paid guards would cringe when they see,
And still opt to keep mute to their ruin.
But yes, a mystery to the world, that will remain,
The Tomb they would wish will never be
The Crux of IT, the Sound from its within.
The paid guards would cringe when they see,
And still opt to keep mute to their ruin.
But yes, a mystery to the world, that will remain,
The Tomb they would wish will never be
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