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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