The Illusion

He wants the throne, he says he does.

He wants the throne that you gloat about so much.

He wants what you hold over his head.

But does he?

Or has he, like you, fallen in love with this illusion?

This one of fairness and black and white,

When both of you are grayer than a cloudy sky?

Does he really want your throne, or is he content with his life?

No.

He, like you, is afraid that one day, someone will shatter the illusion,

Revealing both of you to be gray.

And he'll be so used to being bad,

That he won't know himself

anymore.

The Devil and you,

as "different" as can be.

You fear the same things, you do the same deeds

But one is day and one is night

One is forgiveness and one is plight

One is black and one is white

Or is it?

You fear the illusion, shattering.

Well I've got the hammer, my darling.