This rife
And decadent decay
Despise the fools
That triumph from our pain
And decadent decay
Despise the fools
That triumph from our pain
A thousand martyrs
Will never know the grief that I feel
Amidst the crowd
Baying for my blood
One day the tide will turn
The doomed rise
The flock will burn
A thousand martyrs
Will never know the grief
That I feel
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