The devil sits on his barbed-wire throne
and laughs at the procession as they bemoan.
But what keeps him most amused
are the lives that were lived but never used.

They shuffle along the path he set
and kick up the dust of their regret.
They wear the tatters of their previous roles
that now ill-clothe their naked souls.

Despite the pleas, the sobs, the cries
in his direction no mercy lies.
They smolder and burn as they move on
and dissolve away until they're gone.

The devil gets up from his barbed-wire throne.
with some flesh tearing from the bone.
The show sadly over for the day
he sighs, turns around and walks away.