The afternoon has gently pa**ed me by
The evening spreads its sail against the sky
Oh ye of little faith
You follow in my step
We crumble on the ground before you dry
The universe is but a question mark
Hangs above my head there in the dark
Oh ye of little hope
I thought that I could croak
The truth has stretched you far from me, too far
Oh Pilate, you speak to me so clear
Your voice of hell has filled my soul with fear
Oh ye of little blood
You call lies in the mud
Your hands are always washing them
The afternoon has gently pa**ed me by
The evening spreads its sail against the sky
Oh ye of little faith
You follow in my step
We crumble on the ground before you dry
Oh Pilate, you speak to me so clear
Your voice of hell has filled my soul with fear
Oh ye of little blood
You call lies in the mud
You hands are always washing them