Traded my soul to a wealthy man
So I don’t have to work again
He said, “What’s my price to rule the world?”
—--------------
Your soul’s already spent,
a receipt in his vault.
now he wants the change.
-
He leans across the mahogany,
fingers drumming like rain on a coffin lid,
and asks again, softer:
-
“What’s my price to rule the world?”
-
Your disdain flashes the way…
