The sacred blood that flowed and bled through veins
was never wasted — never, not for me;
for all your tricks, no matter what remains,
I rule the earth now. God, the irony.
When offered all the world, you wouldn't bow
(I made you blink, though — yes, I saw the look),
and through the trial and death, I wondered how
you’d cope. When curtains ripped and mountains shook,
I panicked (for a second), then it hit:
You’re gone. They failed. And here you lie, as still
and dead as any corpse in any pit.
Don’t tell me this was all part of his will.
They’re coming now; I smell them in the sky.
Let's see them save you this time.