This is the price we pay
for scavenging through the devil's pocket
rife with soot and lint and malice
I'm through forewarning, go on, have it
Have it all, submerge yourselves
Have it all, the deceit, the wealth
But deals with the devil
don't come around too often
and his insidious charm?
Proceed with caution
The fetid scent of artifice transmutes itself
into raging creatures of the night
And if the sleep of reason produces Goya's monsters
I must admonish you, prepare yourselves for an apocalyptic fight
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