The marionettes all fall to the ground
As they hear the Unholy Sound
This seems to be the Devil's Threshold
Corridors of Dark Power, in the Hell's Motel
I can reach out and touch the Evil
It's like a pungent smell in the air
A whisper, a swish of cold, demonic breeze
The cackle to raise your hair
New Age born with a Whimper
My sobs mingled with a Simper
Old Nick smiles at me
Watches me through his mask
I'm not sure whether I can last the night
I savour the wait, this lustful task
The threads of the puppets
Have been cut now
Don't think I'm controlled anymore
It is I who has the control now
The Demons clutter my path
Block my way
Salvation is what I want
Free me of my sins today
But I have been denied again
This pearly throne of felicity
Seems like I am trapped forever
Trapped at this Pinnacle of Infinity
© 2004 Arnab Majumdar
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