Dreams you think I peddle, yet nightmares are what I sell
Fondest wishes may be the path into your darkest hell
If who you are and what you have don’t leave you satisfied
The things that you would ask me for will leave you dead inside
The wishes you are about to speak won’t fill the hole within
So, think carefully before you speak these wishes to the Djinn
You think you will be satisfied with wealth beyond your dreams?
Wealth I will give, but not enough, though gold flow down in streams
Money a cruel master is, though it starts a gentle drug
Even with more than you can spend the emptiness it won’t plug
Possessions can indeed possess and men of means grow mean
Defending what he thought would give him freedom makes him obscene
Perhaps it is the beauty, the princess that you seek
Though she is pleasant on the eye she isn’t for the meek
For though I can grant you what you need to get into her bed
I will not grant you release from the questions in your head
You are the one who thought perhaps an angel at your side
Would make you more than who you are or calm the boy inside
Fame it is a fickle thing and power fails you too
Although it makes you for the moment bold and new
But soon you find it is just another mask you have to wear
An act you play, a part to act, a path into despair
You’ve sold your soul to become the person others need
And their applause and adulation becomes your source of greed
Oh, I’ve been asked to grant the master work of song or pen
And I’ll grant one but remember the inspiration is not within
You’ll try with all your life to reach the pinnacle once more
But all the notes or words you write fall hollow to the floor
In years to come they’ll look back and remember the one hit wonder
This work forever more will be the shadow that you live under
Strength and speed and athletic skill or enemies who are laid waste
Athleticism I can grant for a time but you’ll find it’s just a taste
Strength and speed and skill they come from years of discipline
But when it’s given suddenly the regimentation is not within
And one enemy’s place another soon will fill, a vacant space is free
You won’t have changed, and nature it abhors a vacuum. See!
If I an evil spirit were, this warning I would not make
You humans somehow do not to see the thing makes you great
For somewhere deep inside your soul there is long dry well
Some unrequited emptiness into which you seem to dwell
Your wildest wishes I will grant, but eventually you’ll see
There is a hook, you will want more, you are as trapped as me.
Neil White, 2017
Sign of the Rose 