Girl's Got A Face Like Murder - Fear Before The March of Flames

…we could see in the distance hundreds of men

Their campsite illuminated by skin bound to stick

Like scarecrows: too tired to dance

Too ashamed to look up

Taunted by their shadows

Their empty stares licked at your back

But at your parade we saw you stand tall

«Oh beautiful one» mother sheds a tear

«If only we could reach such heights»

We are dogs at your waist

«This is my love» we hear you say

«This is my strength» we catch your spit our lips shine prepared to sing your

praises

You lose your tongue at the scent of burning flesh

And your mouth was so proud of your existence

I guess you won’t be coming home a martyr…