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 so 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

So once upon the podium

A crucifix we then erect

And nail our hero heartily

Hands and feet, and bind his neck

The reason for our worship fades

Our Idol 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

Such 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