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