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....