His Eyes-Cool Hand Luke

I saw His eyes after they bound Him I saw the blood drops on the courtyard The highest priests and men of the law Began to call forth the false witnesses They questioned Him, He gave no answer Could He not see these men could free Him? They struck his face, no, that's too poetic They punched Him till their fringes were covered in blood (Prophecy, Prophecy) My stomach turned to rot Why didn't He stay down? Why didn't He defend Himself? I was helpless like my sweet Jesus The more they struck His face The more it seemed that He had won The morning sun, the sound of roosters As Jesus stared right through the government I saw His eyes amidst this pageant Not filled with fear, but more like pity He spoke few words, choosing them wisely It seemed like calculated suicide The water splashed out of the basin As all the crowd converged and screamed aloud (Crucify! Crucify!) Carries His cross, falls on His face, back on His feet (Dust in His wounds, Dirt in His eyes) The nails, the nails, the nails NO! NO! NO!