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Good Friday
02:54
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Longer in that Paradise to dwell, death becomes his final remedy. Whose idea was it an eye for an eye? Death for sin? Is that what You told Timothy? I basked on the beaches where Your toes had met, the oceans were hexes, the sands my regret. I built castles waiting for You to bless them when it's Your castles I should've dwelled in. And when Your eyes beheld the garden I'd slept in so long, You talked to Yourself the way I talk in song. Was there something about me that You begged not to die? Could I still have You now instead of inside the sky? Now the lies I keep telling, the Gospel I'm selling, the bodies I've watched and the castle I dwell in. You let them lead You there while I stopped believing. Your body was torn and I was sinking my teeth in. Jesus Christ! Why is death what I cost? I'd rather have You here now and be eternally lost. So You could sit down beside me, grab hold of my hand. You'd be my God and I'd be your man. When Simon of Cyrene carried the cross on the Via Dolorosa, his hands held the splinters of a God soon to die, and Jesus, Your heart must've pounded in Your chest while I sat here thinking for my sins I must die. Why is atonement the only way we can see You? Can't we drop the charges after what You've been through? Where's fire in your plan to marry Your bride? I miss You everyday and it eats me alive. When Golgotha grew quiet and You were led to the grave, is it like those old songs and You conjured my name? As the weight of Your people relaxed on Your arms, I'm just happy to see You just as You are. Can I dig at the dirt, have You two days sooner? This planet void of You is the blackest of times. I'm emptying my pockets of the possessions I have, there must've been another way to pay for my crimes. What's so good about so bleak a Friday?
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2. |
Holy Saturday
03:56
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You cough into Your hand from across the room. I'm drawn to You like orange to blue: the way Your hair moves. Slow but with purpose You lift mug to mouth. I catch the scars under Your knuckles and decide to step out. You resonate; my chest is like Carnegie Hall. My ribs rattle an audience as the curtains draw. I find the center of You when I speak to Your Ghost. It's the days I feel You there when I love You most. It's so quiet without You. We wrote holy texts in the indented leather, called out "Christ!" at every change in the weather. From a decorative stained glass we drank unholy water, took flesh instead of bread, nailed up in the past. It's so quiet without You. I feel like I'm in limbo, got crucifixes akimbo, exorcising all of You from red words, trying to revive Your face with dead words. Scraping sea floors for Your glory, looking for a molten handful of fury, spent time online researching: Where, O, where's my lonely savior? The Passion of my Christ ain't what I asked for. You took this too far, now we want more. Cuz all of the blood in Your holy body couldn't satisfy everybody. Now we're looking for You to kill again, cuz Jesus we love that we get to sin. I just want You here alive again, I miss You so bad I can't take it.
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3. |
Pascha
02:18
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When Your eyes meet mine, this world makes sense. Your peace fills my body like wine. Your goodness fulfills like nothing else can. When Your eyes meet mine. I'm hopelessly in love! You're the God of my life. Your wounded hands fought off the grave. The way You speak so simply is itself enough when I'm hopelessly in love. Please sit beside me, God, I'll hold Your hand. I want to understand this separation.Your spirit quells my fears, and I know in time I'll have You entirely and fully. When Your eyes meet mine, this world is a painting You constructed with complex care. It's beautiful to live, I want to stay yet again when Your eyes meet mine.
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Caleb Lail Shelby, North Carolina
Caleb Lail is a multi-instrumental songwriter from Shelby, NC, dealing with topics like God and loneliness and death. Find him in a coffee shop or a mosh pit <3
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