Gazing a stare to the man who sold the world,
I realised then;
my soul was already sold to the universe.
A place where the future is already told;
to a being who drinks the spirits of children who already know.

We think we are free!
Like the crow feasting on death;
like a cow grazing in the field,
drunk on vivid chartreuse blades of nourished lush.

We think too much;
we dream of a world free from cupidity.
All we want is a moment of opportunity,
gorged on feelings of trust which can never be too much.

Tricked by an offering to be everything of want.
Selling souls seemed easy enough
while entering a world offering way too much.

Seeing all with no way out beyond an unfamiliar realm,
all we can do is pretend.

The universe awaits my return,
but what will I look like without no soul?
A burden of overwhelming concern.

Only one man knows –
the man who sold the world!

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