Mr. Malum's got a secret
He keeps when giving speeches
Just a whispering precision
That cuts through hesitation with a sharp
And able wit to keep the dogs at bay

When the truth arrives
You won't believe your eyes
He's triumphs pessimist
But he's no less content

With the world in the grip of his hands
He'll crush the air out of its lungs
Say: We don't want him to have it all
But now it's just too late to ask
Because his hold has turned so tight

His puppets to the left, and
His pawns to line the right
But every eye is front and center
A cool intoxication from the sap that
Trickles down his branches to their mouths

When the truth arrives
You won't believe your eyes
A vicious champion
But he's no less content

His hold has turned so tight
The air we're barely breathing's not enough
In this final gasp that rattles up to bed
The last thing we will see is Mr. Malum
Tighten his tie
When he slips in his suit
A link to the cuff
And the shine of his shoes
When the truth arrived
You didn't trust your eyes

You had your chance
But you turned away again
You turned your eyes away again

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