And so it's begun 

This is year one 

The birth of a child in the form of a man 

Wrapped in towel 

Passed out on the floor 

These drunken hours -- graces deflowered 

Cast down by an angel 

She used to kiss his weeping eyes 

Depressed in her bosom 

Tears roll off her nipple 



Sweet baby, don't cry... 

Your tears are only alibis 

To prove you still feel -- 

You only feel sorry for yourself 

Well, get on that cross 

That's all you're good for... 



And thusly it ends 

Depression seeps in on a lonely messiah 

Now he drinks with the lepers 

Losing a limb, his better half 

A glass once half full 

A head hung half-mast 

He claims he's the victim 

Strangled by the nine-to-five 

And a pattern of stillness 

That haunted this still life 



Your tears are only alibis 

To prove you still feel 

You only feel sorry for yourself 

And that's how you thrive 

Your sorrow's your goldmine 

So write some sad song about me 

Screaming your agonies, playing the saint 



The Martyr...

The Martyr...

The Martyr...

The Martyr...

The Martyr...

Oh....