Alchemisland

Kiss this no Sex Pistols mix

Beelzebub flame-wet from the Styx, presenting his posterior for a lip rub

Sick shit but that’s how you get sick shit, iced up with fresh licks

Your body is pregnant with soul, it can be sold, one oath and on it goes

But better than ever before, you can have it all, gain guts to grab glory

Write your headline-grabbing story, you can capture every gaze

You can shine, you can have half the radiance of a sunray for half

He’s ready to make the purchase

Loves to make trades, like me a master of persuasion

In exchange for greatness, we must offer all business

Our missives and epistles to misery, in secret we must hail him

Cloven and fork-tailed, assailing Heaven with his invasions

Speaking of remaking, like the Hollywood Movershakers of today

You have to meet a certain expectation if you want a real deal with Satan

Business that man’ll handle with a beltsander below a blabber’s belt

Pagan ways, razing corpses by the lake while masked dancers gyrate

People seeing as they had not before, a definite change

Can reality be somehow persuaded to alter its face

Some things must remain without explanation