Shunned At A Funeral - They Hate The Blood

They point at me, but I see through.
The way they glare at me and you.
It's not the truth that we undo.
It's who we're tied unto. Their hearts revolt at every sign.
They shake at grace they can't define.
They think it's personal, but in time.
You'll see the deeper line.
It isn't you that lights their fuse.
It's not my words they twist and bruise.
They rage because the cross refused.
To give them what they choose.
They don't hate me, they hate the blood.
They fear what breaks their flood.
They run from holy love. It's in the blood to hate the blood.
To hate the blood.
They shut their ears when truth rings out.
They mock with pride, but they're filled with doubt.
They say it's me they're mad about.
But that's not what it's about.
They sense the cost in crimson grace.
They feel the light that hunts their chase.
They fight the One they can't erase.
It's written on their face. Ditchin' us, they strike and shove.
It's not our names they're thinkin' of.
They rage because the Blood above.
Still calls them into love. They don't hate me, they hate the blood.
They fear what breaks their flood.
They run from holy love. It's in the blood to hate the blood.
To hate the blood.
Their hearts recoil at crimson grace.
They dodge the mirror in its face.
They push the truth, avoid the place.
Where mercy meets the chase. But every soul that flees the light.
Still feels the pull of truth at night.
And all their hate is just a fight.
Against the One who's right.
They don't hate me, they hate the blood.
They fear what breaks their flood.
They run from holy love. It's in the blood to hate the blood.
They don't hate me, they hate the blood.
They flee what clears the mud.
They break at holy love. It's in the blood to hate the blood.
And still the flood is cured by blood.
It's in the blood
to hate the blood.
They hate the blood.