I am a martyr’s man
Made for the selfish tyranny of adequate blame,
I am here for a fighting chance, but how can I fight when my hands are tied down?
And how can I live when I am burned to the ground?
I can take you with me as I return to the hive,
Where martyrs are made for every hound,
And every liar who needs the lying sound,
Of pinning the blame of sins to our mouths
Cutting the throats of the used and the loud…
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