Judas Iscariot sits on the sofa
His mind going to the outer spaces
He can't find anything good in his life
His cortisol must have shot high
He still holds his 11 pieces of gold
Rounding around on his palms
Listening to the sound of hitting hard
Yet he feels he is out of touch
He observes the rituals
The fake praying in the hall
With his teevee on
Zooming on the faces
He shouldn't have messed it up
But for his belief in the 11 pieces of gold
Now he begins to evaluate his role
He will have nothing to remember by
These fake praying souls
Like him it is to pretend
It is still the lord of money
It makes the grade in life
Judas Iscariot sigh deeply
He has his chance to paradise
But he blew it big time
With the 11 pieces of gold
On the sofa he counts his time
The sins have become too heavy in his mind
One day it will implode inside his soul
Now he wants to load off it and quick
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