All the creative ways I submit to shame The fear of god, the need for blame A man I know by many names But most of all, my own A victim to some circumstance A predetermined crime of chance Sympathy for Cain exists In crowded wombs and jawbones You can't take me anywhere But if you're staring down the face we share When I cast you out, you'll find me there Your son of man with holes in hands That he won't let you hold Or do you only see your own? I starve to feed the parts of me Far from who I oughta be Tell me, are you proud of me yet? (Are you proud of me yet?) Rotten to the heart of me Won the devil's lottery Haven't got it out of me yet (Are you proud of me yet?) Hand-me-down martyrdom Scorch the earth, of which it's from Follow where the river runs By never passing through it Hand-me-down martyrdom Scorch the earth, of which it's from Follow where the river runs By never passing through it Hand-me-down martyrdom Scorch the earth, of which it's from Follow where the river runs By never passing through it