I let people confess their sins
I love money, this is what I eat
I have remedy for all the unrests
The more you turn to me the more you're into this
I'm neither a messiah, nor a priest
I'm neither your buddy, nor your therapist
I can offer insubstantial hope
All I do is just selling dope
A dream of escaping is a true deceit
A hollow demise is what you really get
It's only the agony that's left for you
Once you get on the fatal dew
Shooting
Filthy slop up your vain
You march into the grave
In a few years you will expire
Morbid
Withered corpse, yes it is you
Your throat faintly uttered a death-rattle
You're dead