Crimson

Look up into the dark wood

Can you see a shadow’s face?

It is he, the betrayer,

With his head inside and legs out kicking –

A murderous crime; his time now ticking;

Could it be that he, too,

of all the Earth’s creatures,

may be forgiven the dying of sin?

Now out to the Western Sun sand dunes

Do you notice a pitiful sight?

Iscariot, the savage,

Who sings like an angel and rides in the night –

What chance in it lies that he, himself,

young Judas who knelt,

might flee from the fires of hell?