The past has been recaptured again
The sight of where I fell from grace,
The slippery floor of iniquity and sin
The lonely night of depression and guilt
The creak of the door where the ray of light penetrated through.
Without any negotiations, my guilt and sin you bore.
I recapture the past again
The cross, the whip, the blood,
The vinegar, the passover feast, the alabaster box,
The crown made of thongs,
The chanting of the angry ignorant mob
The tears in the cheek of Mary and her counterpart
With hope alive inside her
For the greater good, the best was slain.
I catch the glimpse of the past again,
Where iniquity my garment was
And the table of the devil, I gladly dined
Where demons my ally were
And enemies angels became.
In the deepest of my atrocities and dirtiness
Holiness stopped so low to the depth of peccancy
And redeemed me.