Where are the Martyrs? (Live) Lyrics

With a shattering glass

The pub rushes back

The coasters have gone up on trial

And the cackling witch

With the mole made of gold

Thinks drinking is going out of style

Some oul lad is preaching

His dissonant reason

In paradoxical shots of light

He'd a voice full of passion

But they'd spite you for asking

Why did it never go right

The accent's gone flat

They made sure of that

But they wouldn't give you your peace

And the lingering call

Rings in hollowed out halls

Saying you're too young to be taming such beasts

So where are the martyrs?

Communion is come

And someone is carving out names

And after a while

With those backhanded smiles

You'll find that you are the same

Doesn't that hurt

Oh doesn't that sting

Like a newborn torn from the breast

Well it's all just a dream

So go back to your screens

At least that feels like you're getting some rest

Out in the alley

Masaccio is crying

For the dove has long flown away

And Yesterday's coming

She's restless and hungry

For the sins committed today

It once was romantic

But these shanty town antics

Are starting to lose their charm

The epiphany catches me

Like a car wraps round a tree

And I welcome it with open arms

Now father forgive me

For I've outgrown my family

Fixated on forms of self harm

Cause you handcuffed your lyrics

To a self loathing spirit

With a voice like a fire alarm

So where are the martyrs?

Communion is come

And someone is carving out names

And after a while

With those backhanded smiles

You'll find that you are the same

Doesn't that hurt

Oh doesn't that sting

Like a newborn torn from the breast

Well it's all just a dream

So go back to your screens

At least that feels like you're getting some rest

Absorbing the stool

One sinks like a fool

Making plans for another lament

While some cavernous eyes

Cry into the night

As the choir for all discontent

But from the back room

As it sometimes will do

Comes the smoke of a sparking new sound

It's the clockwork shuffle

Of the crowd being ruffled

By something that's almost profound

They're all getting by

By telling their lies

And then they'll try to forget

But the lines have been drawn

And brought back to naught

For the table is already set

So where are the martyrs?

Communion is come

And someone is carving out names

Well after a while

With those backhanded smiles

You'll find that you are the same

Doesn't that hurt

Oh doesn't that sting

Like a newborn torn from the breast

Well it's all just a dream

So go back to your screens

At least that feels like you're getting some rest

With a shattering glass

The pub rushes back

The coasters have gone up on trial