You've lived your whole life in this role
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Father checked out prematurely, mother drank away her soul
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You became the whipping boy for an angry, bitter man
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When you see this much this young you learn to cope as best you can
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The trick's to look remorseful, but never shoulder any blame
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Condition their responses, that's the way to play the game
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Crocodile tears atream from your eyes
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Shoot an anguished look up at the sky
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Then it's arms outstretched, and a southbound nose
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Your defensive stance
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Your martyr's pose
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It's now your nature, it fits you like a second skin
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You adopt your tortured posture when you feel their patience wearing thin
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Tell me how much alienation
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How much bitterness have you tasted
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How many years were wasted trying to turn dead roses red
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You typecast yourself in this role - your martyr's pose
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Martyr's Pose
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| Tourniquet |
