The Last Supper

Sitting around a table, twelve men and You One looking suspicious, knowing what he’s about to do Wine being passed in lieu of Your blood Bread being broken as the life of Your body Sitting around a table, twelve men and You Take and eat and drink of these things I pass them to you For this is the last time we’ll be together, but again I shall see you Sitting around a table, twelve men and You Walking out to the garden, they not knowing what to do You kneel and pray and cry out to Your Father Two men can’t stay awake, why did they come, why did they bother Prayers and sleeping, they do not mix Along comes a disciple who should be hit with sticks He has turned on You, for a penny in his pocket Sold you out for a coin, perhaps to buy a locket Sitting around a table, twelve men and You Life will be no more, the people scream, “kill the Jew!” Turn their backs, they did, watch you lose the fight Little did they know You would emit a glorious Light Sitting around a table, twelve men and You You may have lost the earthly battle When You died upon that cross But I know those people cried when they realized what they lost Glory be to the Father on High