The Marrow of Human Bone

Oh from where do demons come?

Marching to the sound of a goblin's drum,

They scurry, scuttle, and stalk

To disrupt the righteous walk.

From Earth below, we've heard they reside

Serving along the Devil's side

Rising from dirt to air

Ascending from their wicked lair.

Yet still in the skies we've seen

Shapeless forms; descending fiends

Seen told from stories old

When demon's visits turned ancestor cold.

They come from heaven and hell

Yet we're not powerless to their spell

The spell of evil, a curse of sin,

Cannot confine us in the Devil's prison.

Choices are ours to make

To live our lives--real or fake,

Righteousness is ours to obtain

Still, a hero's character, we merely feign.

Day to day, man fails his test

Only fearing his eternal rest,

He pretends to live a righteous life

Yet his heart reeks of strife.

So, from where do demons come?

Marching to the tune of the Devil's hum

They rise from human hearts

Armed with poisonous darts

Permitted residence by their host,

Aiming to squelch the Holy Ghost,

Our humanly tales of unholy beings

Are wrong about a number of things.

A struggle unseen by man's eye,

Determines whether souls live or die

Demons do not reside in hell alone,

They hide in the marrow of human bone

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