Lend me your soul this tempest night
So says the god of your darkness
Let me put your old fears to flight
Your freedom for my gold harness
This is the way your life will end
Your heart coaxed free from discontent
Feathered bed with nothing to mend
Earl Grey tea bereft of her scent
For the devil’s peace is mindless
Smoke clothed in gold raiment and gloves
Nothing but your blissful blindness
A third eye plucked by blood soaked doves
Your despair wrapped as moral grit
Your jail a heavenly mansion
All the lies in your holy writ
Holding you up as a stanchion
For the souls in hell know no pain
Wrapped as they are in their deceits
Their souls nourished in crimson rain
Then hewn to pay off old receipts
In the end just disfigured gods
The lords of their own damnation
Buggered by their own feathered rods
Their death imagined salvation
