The man I am, they are not meant to see,
A being that is as deceptive as one can be.
With a saint exterior I walk the paths, touching each being with my corrupt heart.
They look at me with awe in their eyes, faith that denies rationality of any kind.
They look at me time and again to cherish the blessing I showers on them.
This blessing I give is not for free, the green that fills my endless greed.
I am not the holy man they think me to be. Not that I regret the status I receive.
I enjoy the faith they have in me, for they have sold their souls to me,
A man they think is close to god, little do they know of my wrath.
I gamble, I cheat and I worship infidelity.
Yet all they do is worship me.