Who is this little Galilean, who crosses my path in my dream?
Why does he look so haunted, as if he is falling apart at the seams?
He is a man of many talents, yet possesses a look so rare
People supported him from a-far, once he seemed to care
My dream is changing, how the tide turns, the coin flips to the other side
His actions are not tolerated and his behaviour they cannot abide
Why does a room once empty, fill with men angry and wild?
The Galilean sinks to the floor and sits there like an insolent child
I ask him to tell me what has happened and explain how it all began
But his lips are sealed; he remains silent, this foolish little man
I see people in mourning in the years to come, weeping and ashamed
Unforgiving words escape their lips and I hear the cursed mention of my name.