MIdnight in the middle of the Day
The sun was hot, angry mob
Gathered by the greystone building
As a man draped in velvet
With a curly black beard
Stepped out on his balcony
Nervously washing his hands
To rid him of the blood
Pilate never wash away
His wrinkled brow showed
The worry lines, I heard Pilate say:
"I find no fault in this man called jesus
The healer from the shores of Galilee"
"I command you to ask
To let him go free
Don’t make me take his
Blood to the grave with me"
Nervously washing his hands
To rid him of the blood
He would never wash away
The mob screamed for blood
Of this innocent man
I heard Pilate pray:
And it was midnight
In the middle of the day
Trembling soldiers fell
Before Jesus cross to pray
The whole world shook
The veil was rent
When the sinless christ was slain
And it was midnight
In the middle of the day
Thunder rolled across
The rumbling mountains
Lighting burned like a fire
Across the sea
But on the holy hill the angels
Raised the crimson flag of triumph
They shouted death, death, death
Good lord, don’t you know
The death is swallowed up in victory
(in victory)
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