You rode into town a most glorious king
Riding on most humble of beasts,
We adorned the very street
With garments and garlands alike.
We fought to get a glimpse,
We pushed to touch your feet.
Now this, how did we get here?
We’ve now begged for your death
Begged a murderer free.
You’ve been whipped,
You’ve been beaten,
And most of all
You’ve been silent.
In 144 hours it changed
From a mob kissing your sandals,
To a mob spitting in your wounds.
We’re a fickle bunch
Most of us just wanting miracles,
Some believed your claims true
And some more afraid the same.
Can I just say thank you,
For ever thinking us worth it?
When I come knocking at your door
After breathing my last
Please don’t take me in,
Only to toss me back out
144 hours later.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 