The flies around Jesus’s head at the end Were big and clumsy and blue The kind of flies that have fed on flesh He didn’t have a free hand To swat them away They sipped at the blood on his face Crawled in his hair Crowded in at his eyes He tried to blow them away
Flies
Flies
Flies
The flies around Jesus’s head at the end Were big and clumsy and blue The kind of flies that have fed on flesh He didn’t have a free hand To swat them away They sipped at the blood on his face Crawled in his hair Crowded in at his eyes He tried to blow them away