In shadows deep, where whispers dwell, A man succumbs to greed's dark spell. It coils around his heart so tight, A silent serpent in the night.
It creeps upon him, veiled in guise, And in his soul, it takes its rise. With every breath, it claims its toll, A hunger deep within his soul.
It grips his face with icy hands, And asks if he loves its demands. He knows it won't stop taking more, Until it births a storm, a roar.
A calamity, born of need, A curse that knows no end, no heed. It feeds upon his every breath, Until there's nothing left but death.