Adorned with thorns, thatched to a crown,
And dressed in robes, a velvet gown,
Ecce Homo, I hear them say.
Well, Jesus did anyway, but we’re both the same.

You see we’re both mortal men,
But were sent by the gods.
Both me and Jesus he sent,
Just to level the odds.

So dress me up in leopard prints,
And spit at me and scorn me,
I’m better than Jesus was anyway,
In that my clothes are clean.

Pass me that rose bush, that’ll do crown wise,
Some people say I love myself, and I do.
I can’t wait to watch the grown men cry,
When they see my three days. See you soon.