Lord, let my people go,
break the chains from us.
See how the magicians’ snake staff mocks You in man’s court.
Watch the synchronization chariots mock You on the streets.
Listen to the mob mimic snatches of words.
Look how the magicians repeat Your red carpet of water.
They hide in plain sight, others can’t see the parade.
They take pleasure in plausibility
They bow their heads to blue pages of papyrus.
Lord, lift up your staff one last time.
Open up the red carpet of redemption.
Send Your angels to the head of the line.
Script the chariot wheels to stick in the mud.
Lord, let my people go,
restore Your Son to us.
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