Here I am, from the rose bush
Twisted in the shape of a crown
Whose unlucky soul will I pierce today?
This long desire of mine
My kin has been raised for these moments
All we desire is to have man's blood
I am carried on a ragged cloth
I can see the soldiers beating
Beating a man covered in his own blood
I get ever so closely to him
I can almost taste his blood now
Wait... No! Not this man! Do not pierce this man!
This is my Master, my Ruler, my Creator!
Do not lay this guilt upon me!
Crashed into His head, I am, by these beasts!
I can hear His grunts of painful grief
I have no sheep to give to You
I have no sacred doves for my own sake
Please, Lord, forgive me, for I have sinned against Thee.