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 s**ers 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 a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h to the martyrs come on, come on
You sorry a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h 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 a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h to the martyrs come on, come on
You sorry a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h 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 c*nt!
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 a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h to the martyrs come on, come on
You sorry a**
You sorry a**
Oh! d**h to the martyrs come on!