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....