What forces a man to assume his role?
To take the long walk off a short pier
And enter into infamy?
A man needs a milieu
And a muse to share it

But most of all a man needs a reason
To send him careening into villainous games
Every man will promise her the world
But only I can deliver her reprieve
From a realm so horribly nice
Pure evil will always prevail
Over the corrupt good

Hand in iron fist we walk
We tiptoe between trip mines
And waltz amid mortar shells

After the smoke clears
I pull the trick candle stick
And together we mix chemicals
While the night's children clamor unseen

Two parts lust and a dash of charm
And hint of the dreams that keep you awake
Then I'll pull you up the staircase
That endlessly spirals upward
And while we overlook the crumbled city below
Maybe we'll have a conversation

The one who pulls the plugs from the dam
Never thinks about being swept off their feet
By the ensuing flood