Two bits of wood cut down from a tree,

Changed the world and everything that we see,

A hammer echoing around the hill,

The piercing and the blood began to spill.

Choose the path of the left or the right,

Do you remember when day turned to night?

Were you the one who let the die be cast,

Six slow hours never flew by so fast.

Blood and water flowed under the dark sky,

Looking on with no tears in their eye,

They didn’t know what they were doing,

You didn’t know what you were doing?

Three years went by in a lonely room,

Doubting scars and stories of the womb,

But a young girl found a rock fallen in the garden,

If you’d found it, would you ask for a pardon?

Is it ironic, that it’s called good?

Maybe not if you really understood,

Let scales fall from your eyes so you can see,

Where will you look, the rock or the tree?