O God, turn us around
And show your face
And we will be saved
Not from death
But from its sting
This madness of our own making
We see all around us
Crucifying them for teaching
Truths are reliabilities over time
Chasing false hopes
Of corpses rising from graves
And bones receiving flesh again
Of etherealities unto ages of ages
At the so-called end of time
Of unspeakables and unfathomables
Venting up and beyond distant galaxies
Of intellections and pneumaticities
Merely interceding for us
Before the anointed appearance
Certainly no skies had joined land yet
The first had to flee from his face
After the ascension
The aeons rushed
Toward Armageddon
Toward Vindication
The goal was festal sabbath
No one was raised out of the dead ones
While Hades and Thanatos still held keys
To the gate of a bottomless pit
And the lake was still a place yet to come
For those who refused to look upon your face
Over time we can rely upon the true hope of our past
That the Mount has been exalted above the plain
Death and Hell were tossed into perdition
Their righteous dead already raised
This terra firma etherealized
The saints dwell amongst us
Turning us around
Showing us your face
Saving us, O God
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