
Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Song language: English
Stigmata Martyr |
A heroine, a deity |
on heroin, or vanity |
To jack their personality, |
beyond normal humanity. |
A crowd of massed humanity |
bow and worship diligently. |
He’s built a loyal following |
and they steer him thoroughly. |
But jealous man plots from the pews, |
no need for valid righteousness. |
One slightly truthful word set free, |
will turn the tides quite easily. |
Our accusations need not be what would bury mortal man. |
The sins of our own deity are tiny, |
but on these we stand. |
So once upon the podium, |
a crucifix we then erect, |
And nail our hero heartily, |
hands and feet, we bind his neck. |
The reasons for our worship fades, |
our Idol drenched in his own blood, |
Forgotten are the virtues that we, |
valued beyond royalty. |
Such joy we dig his shallow grave, |
anticipating pains to come. |
We watch the wriggling dance of death, |
and laugh light hearted at deaths fun. |
We pounded out the joyous light. |
Our saviors buried now for years. |
A legend now of time gone by, |
A martyr of forgotten tears. |