Tax On My Soul

Tax on My Soul
He taxes your belt, including the Celts
Hold on to your heart, lest he takes it apart
Pay a price for your labour and one for your sabre
Give him his tithe, because that is his right
He labours all day, like man in the hay
Yet cannot be caged, as he looks at your age
Don't die in the straw, for the devil will call
Two coins on your eyes as you lay on the ice
Leave a penny for heaven and two for the preacher
As the money he takes is from him for your grave
 Don't carry your coffin on backs that are cloaked
The tax man won't choke from the crippled and old
Lack of his gold; may render you cold.........
Yet he searches your soul, to seek out your goal
He hides in your 'will' and even your till
Escape him you must, but he catches your dust
Useful were you, to the church and the few
But he taxes your faith despite all the hate.

The psalms that he holds are from farms  he has sold
Lest they call him to hell from palms that are broke

He seeks all the answers through time and debate
Yet when he is gone, others will come.

Pray to your God, and the ones you forgot
Lest you meet him in Hell with the souls he had bought