Washing our hands of another man's crimeDoes not leave our hearts without guilt
Our views have not changed over time
Nor were the foundations we then built
We create sympathy only in our own mind
As if our suffering has been filled to the hilt
When what we do is simply leave behind
All the baggage, all those horrible decisions
Of our fears, tears and moral indiscretions
All our flaws, trapped and now found inside
"I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves." Pontius Pilate
