Mammon the Ghast
It is inside us all of the time
Courageous and pompous, plotting…
A spirit deep in our bellies, yearning
The ghoul that devours reasoning’s rhyme
Mammon the ghast drives us to murder
He craves what drips from our siblings’ gash
Spook of a thousand tongues, lapping
The feces of your mother and son
Oh, the sin of human frailty is wondrous
Swelling of his appetite infinite
My wand casts spells of lust in the dark
And with pleasure it is unleashed
Within me lives the bearer of rubbish
The lord of swine be gone
Mammon my master giveth me the trumpet
That I may sound the call to arms
To swallow this world and its goodness whole
I will claim its dead as my parish
No shackles of mind or body imprison
For I go on…and on…
And on

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