Martyrs

Martyrs Is it too late to show the martyrs LOVE? To soak their sadness in bleach awhile? Will they never turn back? The weight of desperate ideology a magnet that pulls a heart that lost one too many battles For some kind of THRILL For some kind of PURPOSE Soaking their conscience in a stranger’s blood What do they have to lose? What do they have to gain? All they know is a sitcom existence, empty pockets and pain The weak attach to the strong for a piece of the glory Another dream dead Another atrocity committed Sounds like the same old story