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Abney Park
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Stigmata Martyr
A heroine, a deity
On heroin or vanity
To jack their personality
Beyond normal humanity
A crowd of massed humanity
Bows down and worships diligently.
He's built a loyal following,
And soon 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
We don't cry for the gods that die by our hands--
We throw stones if our gods take a stand
We create and destroy our stigmata martyrs, stigmata martyrs
So once upon the podium
A crucifix we then erect
And nail our hero heartily,
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Hands and feet, and bind his neck
The reason for our worship fades
Our idol's drenched in his own blood
Forgotten are the virtues that
We valued beyond royalty
We don't cry for the gods that die by our hands--
We throw stones if our gods take a stand
We create and destroy our stigmata martyrs, stigmata martyrs
With joy we dig his shallow grave,
Anticipating pains to come
We watch the wriggling dance of death
And laugh, light-hearted, at death's fun
We've pounded out the joyous light;
Our savior's buried now for years
A legend now of time gone by,
A martyr of forgotten tears
We don't cry for the gods that die by our hands--
We throw stones if our gods take a stand
We create and destroy our stigmata martyrs, stigmata martyrs
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