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 soon 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
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's 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
Stigmata martyrs

With 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
Stigmata martyrs