I am not the son of God And I am not the only one If it speaks, then it can bleed And if it's green, then it can break The tyranny of the voice In the voice of the crowd The crowd, the crowd I'm not strong, I'm not proud But if it's small, you can pull it down Down, down, down, down Down, down, down, down The tyranny that's hurting me The tyranny that's hurting me And all I wanted was you And the sweet relief of death And all I wanted was you And the sweet relief of death