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Their Majesty

Take these purple rags and thorns

Form them into a cloak and crown

And then, put them on the one

Who wears them with sadness

For they will be the monarch

Of a different kingdom

They will be born in a manger

And will cure the blind and lame

Forgiving sins of the world

Then, crucified on a cross

Rising from the dead after three days

Then, ascend to the heavens on a white cloud

And are waiting for their majesty

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