Über den Fluss

He woke up, as his flesh fell off … slice by slice,
Floating high up in the air, more than ten-thousand miles.
He said, he was crucified underneath a baneful sky,
Had nails through feet and hands,
Yes, also nails in his eyes.
In defiance of all living things he hang there … upside down,
His poor, vicious face almost touching the ground.
He knows well where he’s been,
Don’t let him in !!!
He claimed twelve-thousand crucifixes transformed
into distorted sombre trees,
Blood ran down their scarred trunks,
Gushed slowly dripping out of the leaves.
The offering gathered in a chalice, all golden,
Held by the dirty hands of a black-bearded man,
His face sheer spitefulness.
He knows well where he’s been;
So, don’t let him, don’t let him in …
Don’t let him in !!!