He Was Numbered Among the Lawless

Oh the cross I see
Looks more like a lynching tree
Like a suffering humanity
Strung up by its neck, hands and feet
But Jesus is dying upon that tree

Oh the cross I see
Looks plain like this world to me
Some claim that it's fair and free
Like their precious democracy
But Jesus is dying upon that tree

Oh the blood is running down
Upon the weeping wailing ground
With every body that breaks the earth is shakes
You see Jesus is dying upon that tree

The cross I see
Looks like this devil economy
Folks dotting i's and crossing t's
Trampling the poor for prosperity
But Jesus is dying upon that tree

Oh the blood is running down
Upon the weeping wailing ground
With every body that breaks the earth is shakes
You see Jesus is dying upon that tree

Mercy
Mercy
Oh my God have mercy on me
Mercy
Mercy
Oh my God have mercy on me

For the mothers and their daughters
For the sons who have lost their fathers
For the vagrants and the refugees
For the children who have become commodities
For the homeless seeking daily bread
Begging pocket change needing to be fed
For the immigrant working endless days
Exploited on a promise with no pay raise
For the prisoner locked inside his cell
Counting those days as he rots in hell
For the victims of this wretched war
And for the movement that we’ll just keep marching for