There he proudly sits, beak in the air
right at the peak of the cross,
as if he can smell sin, pain, death;
he knows what this instrument is used for
and he wants to be the first to see it happen,
wants to call out death with a single "caw!"
But he's too late!
The deed has been done,
the blood of my redemption
has been washed from the cross,
the tomb stands empty.
His Spirit soars beyond the crows!
Let him wait, wait for
eternity
he will never find what he is
looking for; sin is no more.
We have been set free!
Love is all that remains.
