The Saints - Good Friday

Good Friday late in the afternoon
And I wonder what time of day
Rumour has it he dragged his cross through the street
Eyes rolling up through
Thorns and blood
Now I raise my head and I beg for forgiveness
As I pour another glass of red
And you have been gone
Exactly one day short of exactly one week
On Good Friday
And I can feel it,
I can feel it in the air
I can move it
Between my fingers
I can wave it
Wave it like water
And I can see it
In the late afternoon,
On Good Friday.
And my eyes look up searching
And my ears will bleed from listening
From you I'm asking forgiveness on Good Friday.