There is a world that is just swell,
Where angels do bad, and demons do well,
And shingami sit with whores in their lap, bold as a bell,
But there is a shingami, whose in lap is just a skull,
There is a boy who dances with the devil and never will fell,
There is a demon, who as a butler plays his part well,
Another shingami, who loves, as much as love will sell,
And another who plays by the book too swell,
An angel, whose evil, dies by a demon's good guile,
A spoiled prince who knows nothing and does not tell,
His servant, a man of God, does so well,
A man, who drifts between dreams and reality, sits on a well,
A lady who's a cat, sits so silently, and can tell,
A woman wants what she lacks, and must fulfill, the anger of her will,
A lady whose eyes are perfect but that is her downfall,
A soldier, who's a chef, and does not cook so well,
A boy, who's as strong as man, whose sadness and happiness, will not be culled,
And a hound who knows nothing better than hell.