• Introduction: Pilate writes an official epistle to the Roman emperor to inform him of the events concerning Christ. Verse 1 To the august emperor who rules over the world, From distant Judea and its deep night unfurled. I write you these words to bring forth the truth, About a drama that shook the city's youth / About a tragedy that just shook the city. A man has appeared, proclaiming mysteries grand, Of an invisible kingdom beyond our land. Chorus Great Emperor, look down from your high tower, At what was woven in this fateful hour. Blood has flowed on the hills of shale, Giving birth to a sorrowful tale. Rome has conquered the body, but the spirit remains, And haunts us through all our pains. Verse 2 The crowds adored him then had him crucified, Driven by the hatred of priests and those whoied / driven by the hatred of priests and the crowd. But strange wonders followed upon his end, Upsetting the order that our fates intend. The earth trembled under the weight of the torment, And the temple veils suffered their rent. Chorus Great Emperor, look down from your high tower, At what was woven in this fateful hour. Blood has flowed on the hills of shale, Giving birth to a sorrowful tale. Rome has conquered the body, but the spirit remains, And haunts us through all our pains. Verse 3 Whispers still linger that he left the tomb, While the power of Rome yields to the gloom / While the authority of Rome succumbs To the unsubdued force of his memory. I commit these facts to the archives of History. Lord, know that this man has defied death's might, And his shadow still hovers over our port in the night. Outro The epistle is sealed with purple wax and gold. Off to Rome it goes, past ramparts and cold. The governor contemplates the fading light, Uncertain of the morrow... of the morrow...
