And so it's begun
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This is year one
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The birth of a child in the form of a man
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Wrapped in towel
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Passed out on the floor
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These drunken hours -- graces deflowered
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Cast down by an angel
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She used to kiss his weeping eyes
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Depressed in her bosom
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Tears roll off her nipple
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Sweet baby, don't cry...
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Your tears are only alibis
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To prove you still feel --
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You only feel sorry for yourself
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Well, get on that cross
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That's all you're good for...
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The Martyr
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And thusly it ends
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Depression seeps in on a lonely messiah
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Now he drinks with the lepers
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Losing a limb, his better half
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A glass once half full
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A head hung half-mast
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He claims he's the victim
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Strangled by the nine-to-five
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And a pattern of stillness
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That haunted this still life
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Your tears are only alibis
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To prove you still feel
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You only feel sorry for yourself
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And that's how you thrive
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Your sorrow's your goldmine
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So write some sad song about me
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Screaming your agonies, playing the saint
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The Martyr...
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The Martyr...
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The Martyr...
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The Martyr...
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The Martyr...
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Oh....
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-----------------
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The Martyr
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Cursive |