Promises to slay your beast,
He’ll name his price, have his feast.
Banish evil, clear the field, ease your pain
So who’s a pawn in a zero sum game?
Opens you up, lets you breathe
But once you’re in you’ll never leave,
And just like death one thing you’ll find
When he comes to call, cold knock at the door
It’ all too clear it’s payment in kind.
So who is he, who is this man?
For whom does he speak — in who’s holy name?
To invoke and by magic give you a sign,
Is he the devil or one of his slaves?
At the end of the day, it’s one and the same.
Sullied with sin and hungry as well
It’s you that he wants to hang high on his line.
The power you give him that’s what he craves
As slowly but surely you dig your own grave.
The aura around him, sulfur and sour, gets stronger and stronger as you reach the hour.
And when it arrives and the clock stops to tick
There’s a quiet so loud yet muffles like shroud.
The smile on his face, so full of malice,
Now you know what you drank was a poisoned chalice.
The water he gave you, the stuff of life
It dried you up and shriveled your soul
As you slowly got sucked down a bottomless hole.
So as he looks down from over his desk,
Disdain and disgust are what he does best.
He lifts a finger, and stretches a hand
Vultures circling as he conducts his band.
Waiting and circling, just waiting to feed, on you as you lie there in desperate need.
What else could you do though, a family to feed?
Look in his eye it’s as cold as can be for he knows something you’ll never see.
Millions of people, ordinary folks,
Piled high on the alter, families to feed, as they lie on the fire he constantly stokes.
His master, his god, it never tires, as the cold of his eyes reflect funeral pyres.
Your credit was good but it’s debt that he craves as slowly but surely it fills up the graves.
So who was your savior now turned so sour
When the chime of the clock called out the hour?
Just who did you pray to and pin your hope on?
The worst of them all — the god of Mammon?