You've lived your whole life in this role  Father checked out prematurely, mother drank away her soul  You became the whipping boy for an angry, bitter man  When you see this much this young you learn to cope as best you can    The trick's to look remorseful, but never shoulder any blame  Condition their responses, that's the way to play the game    Crocodile tears atream from your eyes  Shoot an anguished look up at the sky  Then it's arms outstretched, and a southbound nose  Your defensive stance  Your martyr's pose    It's now your nature, it fits you like a second skin  You adopt your tortured posture when you feel their patience wearing thin  Tell me how much alienation  How much bitterness have you tasted  How many years were wasted trying to turn dead roses red  You typecast yourself in this role - your martyr's pose