in the pale moonlight

I exist in finite space,
Not far from the furnace,
Where souls are harvested,
In the melting pot of this circus,

I stand not far from his gates,
And see one by one the souls he takes,
Asmodeus is his name,
To be Faust is my mistake,

I've danced with him in the pale moonlight,
Tasted the chaos in which he delights,
Sat at the banquet of his feast,
Wishing I could stab him in the eye,

Day by day I labour beneath his yoke,
Caught in the sway of another pointless joke,
I am tired, I've cried,
Beneath his whip my spirit broke,