**(Verse 1)**
You sit in your office, a tower of glass
Watching the sweating and bleeding men pass
You got a view of the river, a view of the sk
You traded the dirt for a pocket of gold
Now you’re shivering out in the cold.y
But you never look down at the reasons why.
Your shoes are polished to a mirror shine
But you’re walking on cracks in a broken design
You smile for the cameras, you wave at the crowd
But your laughter sounds hollow, and it echoes too loud.
**(Chorus)**
You sold your soul, you had power, wealth and fame
But the devil himself don’t remember your name.
You traded the dirt for a pocket of gold
Now you’re shivering out in the cold.
Yeah, you sold your soul, you had power, wealth and fame
But it all tastes like ashes, and it all feels the same.
**(Verse 2)**
You bought the magistrates, bought up the news
Got the whole city singing your tunes
You got a vault full of silver, a cellar of wine
But you’re drinking alone at the end of the line.
The ink on the contract is dry and black
And the ghosts of your promises want their money bic picking)*ack
You can buy all the silk that they weave in the east
But you can’t buy a feast for a spiritual beast.
**(Chorus)**
'Cause you sold your soul, you had power, wealth and fame
But the devil himself don’t remember your name.
Yeah, you sold your soul, you had power, wealth and fame
But it all tastes like ashes, and it all feels the same
You’re just a king of the dust, and a slave to the wave.
**(Outro)**
You sold your soul..
**(Bridge)**
*(The guitar strumming gets a little heavier, a minor chord rings out and sustains)*
The crossroads ain’t just in the Delta mud
It’s a boardroom table, a handshake, a flood.
He don’t come with horns, he don’t come with a tail
He comes with a pen and a private rail.
He whispers sweet nothings in your ear at night
Tells you you’re wrong, and he’s making it right.
Now the mirror is cracked and the picture is torn
And you wish to the heavens you never were born.
**(Verse 3)**
*(Music drops back down to just the quiet, lonely acoust
So pour out the whiskey and lock up the door
The rich man is poor now, and nothing much more.
The street sweepers gather the dust in the dawn
And the ghost of the man that you were is just gone.
You can’t take it with you when you step in the grave
You had power, wealth, and fame.
Just a moth to the flame.
Just a moth to the flame.
*(A low, melancholic hum)*
Mmm... you sold it.
Yeah, you sold it.
Power, wealth, and fame.
Just a ghost with a name.
*(The guitar plays a slow, descending blues riff, ending on a single, unresolved, dissonant chord that fades out into the sound of distant city traffic.)*
