The Time Has Come

The time has come to sell your soul.

No, my puppet,
It won't hurt a bit.
They'll just take the part of your heart
That tells you who you are--

No, I promise
It's quick and painless.
A fast extraction.
And see, they'll give you what you want.
Riches and gold and--

Well, no, it won't.
But why ask about "forever?"
Nothing lasts that long.
Not what they'll give you--
But not your soul either.
And where would it have gotten you?

Afterlife?
Puppet, there's no such thing.
Not for us.
We gave it up for earthly goods
And what could be better?

Heaven?
Heaven has nothing on this, puppet;
The life we'll build,
The castles, the empire--

Fall? Of course it will.
It will tumble to the ground
In a spectacle of dust and ash.
But how PRETTY it will be while it stands
Sparkling and glittering
Against the heaven you forsake.