Face to face with the wolf of a demon he hordes his money in gold Guarding the circle which houses the sinners of which wealthy sins be told Plutus, allow me to pass into the great torture track Silence the demon with one earthy word he sprints off to his pack
Avaricious and hoarded these are the corrupt made up of most clergymen Those manipulate their power status without regard to their kin Hoarded and squandered in the eyes of the judgement These two sins do not hold their own Eternally jousting for position on their rest will never be known
Their mortal riches never be known, their eternity looking so bleak For once their weight has reached the other they must turn the opposite way Insurmountable tasks ordered by demons who scream and shriek Distorted bodies lie at their feet of souls proving far too weak
