He came 'round for the afterpartynGot a reception more than heartynWell no wonder, here he was, our city's most prominent martyrnWho stuck needles in his arms while you and I still stuck to smartiesnAnd who taught us all 'bout poetry and how to pick up birdsnWho hung on to his pathos while other suckers saved and earnednAnd the underground would love him in return.nnHe came 'round for the afterpartynGot a reception more than heartynSo then he took a loop around and then he slouched into an armchairnAnd there was she, yeah in a flash, like Guinevere to her King ArthurnSo I closed my eyes and this is what I heard;nnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martyrs, come on, come onnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martys, come on!nnI remember it all clearly, I remember it precisenHow he fixed me with his stare and looked me right into the eyesnSaying Me, I'm no machine, no, I defy the nine to fivenNow forgive me, I considered it both radical and wisenBut for God's sake, I was fourteen at the time!nnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martyrs, come on, come onnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martys, come on!nnNow you who are so grand, who claim you built the fundaments on which I standnYou are the man, but you preferred the gentle fan I was before.nBut now it's time to be unkind to speak my mindnAnd if you ask why I'm so blunt, it's 'cause I care for you, you c*nt!nYou're no longer wild at heart, you're just a boring junkie fartnAnd if you really wanna die, alright, then die, then you old tart!nSo I walked across the dancefloor until I was in his sightnAnd I opened up and this is what come out:nnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martyrs, come on, come onnYou sorry ass, you sorry assnOh! Death to the martys, come on!