I saw you swinging from the birch;
It felt like stumbling into church
After many years of sin and lust,
After my heart had turned to rust.
I thought naught of your thorny crown;
Stitched your gospel into my gown.
I married you through broken bread,
And kissed the scars upon your head.
I’ve earned your love with tears of blood,
Remained your ark throughout the flood.
I wear this cross around my neck,
Though loving you leaves me a wreck.
Their prophesies have all come true;
I’ve killed myself by loving you.
I pray I can be better now,
Smear holy water on my brow.
My prayers don’t seem to reach your ear,
Though the devil is drawing near.
I’ve tried, but I can’t save your soul;
Bearing crosses will take its toll.
I would have died to set you free;
You’ve made a martyr out of me.