Death to the Martyrs - The Ark

He come 'round for the afterparty

Got a reception more than hearty

Well No Wonder — here he was

Our city’s most prominent martyr

Who stuck needles in his arms

While you and I still stuck to smarties

And who taught us all 'bout poetry and how to pick up birds

He who hung on to his pathos

While other suckers saved and earned

And the underground would love him in return

He came 'round for the afterparty

Got a reception more than hearty

So he took a loop around and then he slouched into an armchair

And there was she, yeah in a flash

Like Guinevere to her king Arthur

So I closed my eyes and this is what I heard:

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on, come on

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on!

I remember it all clearly

I remember it precise

How he fixed me with his stare

And looked me right into the eyes

Saying «Me, I’m no machine!

No I defy the nine to five»

Now forgive me, I concidered it both

Radical and wise

But for God’s sake I was 14 at the time!

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on, come on

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on!

Now you who are so grand

Who claim you built the fundaments

On which I stand, you are the man

But you preferred the gentle fan I was before

But now it’s time to be unkind

To speak my mind

And if you ask why I’m so blunt

It’s 'cause I care for you, You cunt!

You’re no longer wild at heart

You’re just a boring junkie fart

And if you really wanna die alright then

Die, then you old tart!

So I walked across the dancefloor

Until I was in his sight

And I opened up and this is what came out:

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on, come on

You sorry ass

You sorry ass

Oh!

Death to the martyrs come on!