When I die inside of it
With the red roses dripping from the rafters
And the sweet sun burning in through the skin of it
I will lift my hands and look to the hills.

When I rise from this body of death and decay
And stand once again on two legs
Up from the blood and gore that cover my corpse
I will lift up my hands.

When the chains that bind me are loosed
And the weight that sits so heavy on me
Is taken up
I will lift my voice.

I am in the mud
I am fallen low
I am underneath the weight of sin and death
But I will rise- and this not on my own.

You all laugh at me
And some look on with pity
But I am nothing here and you are fools
And I will not laugh at your defeat.

This then I wait for:
The end of days
The end of me
And the return of the King.