Sometimes I feel just like Jesus Christ   Nailed to the cross, betrayed and crucified   A crown of thorns cutting into my skin   A palace and a throne and a kingdom of my own   Knights in armour and courtesans, maids in waiting with blood on their hands   The king's white throne(?) can't get blood from a stone      I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis   I'm falling, into the grip of disease      Cold comfort is success and I can feel my blood freeze   Reason with the dust and blown away by the breeze   How cruel the stars, that shine so hard      I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis   I'm falling, into the grip of      Disease      Attend his masquerader(?) and all I ever need is the truth   But the truth of it all is that there's no truth at all   Like the truth of the cry from the new born child   So why? Just tell me why, does Jesus cry?      I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis   I'm falling, into the grip of disease   I'm falling, into the arms of Nemesis   I'm falling, into the grip of disease      Disease, disease, disease