Crucified

His hands were in chains While mine were not, Innocence and love is his claims Rebellion and defiance he had sought. An immigrant to our beautiful land With no visible signs of work or income, He walked with a radical band When he asked others to follow, they'd come. He spoke not from the mountain, but from a mound Seems though he enjoys to incite, He tells the wealthy they are not heaven bound He will not give up his rebellious fight. A king he says that he truly is His subjects are the poor, the desolate, and the needy, He shares all that is his His followers say that he is caring and not greedy. He has asked his father to forgive me Even though I don't know or have ever met his dad, He told me that someday him I will see Then he asked me, please not to be bad. By him, myself and many others are called sinners And that we all have too much greed and pride, In the end though he will be dead, and we will be the winners On a cross tonight, he will be crucified. Randy L. McClave