Power

Patently unworthy to aspire to royalty,
Doubtlessly a poor, deluded, peasant family,
Urged along by foreigners proclaiming prophecies--
I can smell the scent familiar of rebellion

I can see the shadows of the vultures' patient wings;
Miscreants and fools would love to make or be made king
In the end, they're happy just to spread their suffering:
This situation calls for my solution

Caiaphas:
Hear ye, hear ye, let the trial begin;
Bring the guilty, I mean the accuséd one, in
Let witnesses come, let us hear, let us see--
I'm sure we will find that their charges agree