Based on Germany 1980

I’ve never claimed to lead a saintly sort of life
And I’ve done my share of fairly naughty things
You can imagine how it took me by surprise
When I noticed, with my clothes off late last night
Seeping, burning marks had popped up on my skin
Could they be from an unusual STD?

Stigmata, stigmata, red holes in my palms
Don’t think they’re bruises or sores
Stigmata bled out on my wrists and my arms
Only one possible cause

Not a tropical fever, but a lesson from the Lord
He thinks it’s best that I change my behaviour!
Stigmata, stigmata, oh yes I was pleased
But then I found a load more

There were two on my backside, there were three around my face
There were even some concealed around my special place
So I took a few photos, put them on Instagram
“Does someone know if I’ve I been blessed or damned?”

“Are they really stigmata? ‘Cause this doesn’t seem quite right
I’m starting to get a bit concerned”
“Stigmata! Stigmata!” was all they replied
“Amen, the saviour’s returned!”

Stigmata, stigmata
(Second coming of Jesus!)
They came to my house
(And we know what this entails)
Broke in and dragged me away
(Better get some planks of wood, a hammer and some nails)

Stigmata disaster
(Even if she’s not Jesus)
The crowd wants me dead
(Even if she’s only sick)
Wish this were herpes instead
(Those spots could be infectious - do it quick!)

What is that construction I see?
(Stigmata! A martyr!)
They’re going to crucify me!