the large wooden door to my throneroom is tossed aside with a bang, an army of demons storming inside. i observe their gathered number calmly. i could **** each and every demon taking part in this revolt with ease. the problem is, i have no fight left in me. i've relapsed into my addiction to human blood, and i have no strength to cut off the rebellion. i'm exhausted, and i keep hearing my own words from that fateful night in the church so many years ago, knowing they could never become reality,

we deserve to be loved
i deserve to be loved
i just want to be loved

so, when the demon army orders me to step down from my throne, i agree. even if they sentenced me to death, i probably wouldn't fight it. yet, the demons are too afraid to attempt execution. instead, they allow me to return to my old profession as a crossroads demon. my work as a crossroads demon was the only thing i've ever felt truly confident in. i loved the job, and I was the best in the business. after all, i am king of the crossroads.

On ourn wedding day,
                                       If was to findeth one.....

I'd call her mine queen,
                                          As she'd whisper king,

Yet her whisper shall be heard upward ringing as bells to ourn creator's throneroom!!!

They used wood to put my Jesus on the cross
And ropes from plants to keep him there.
Oh God, my god, he used to work with wood.
He was taught wood work by his father.
And mandated by his heavenly father to stay on wood.
God had wood-work of his own to do.
The Son of Man had to be carved for God’s righteous purpose.
So that the works of sin may be fully ended.
The wood is work Jesus must not abandon
Metal spikes were driven into his wrists
That was a painful drive
As if to say you cant go anyway.
The Jesus who came to the city on the donkey
Would leave the city a dead king.

They slayed my King of Kings
It even says it in the cross.
Why did they assassinate him?
Many men would want to be made God.
My God was killed like a man.
One crown of thorns put in his head.
His head bleeds with royal red.
It drips down his beard and onto his body.
They crowned him but what a throne?
A cross is an instrument of death
It should not be the throneroom to the King of Kings.
They pierced his side.
Soldiers which should protect the King
Were tasked with killing him
That was their job today, to **** God.
Not worship him, **** him.
Not serve him, **** him.
So they put it in his side.

But God could not stay dead.
They took his body away.
Away from where his ancestors were buried.
Now they used stone to keep him in place.
But the stone must yield
To the Cornerstone.
The stone was rolled away.
But the cornerstone cut without hands.
Got up and walked away from the tomb
So now we are free.
God worked with that wood
Because he is the divine carpenter.
He worked with the stone.
Because God is amazing.
Get it? A mason.
God is a mason
And my Jesus could not stay dead.