Texty: Black Sabbath. Lord Of This World.

You've searching for your mind don't know where to start
Can't find the key to fit the lock on your heart
You think you know but you are never quite sure
Your soul is ill but you will not find cure

Your world was made for you by someone above
But you choose evil ways instead of love
You made me master of the world where you exist
The soul I took from you was not even missed

Lord of this world
Evil Possessor
Lord of this world
He's your confessor now!

You think you're inocent you've nothing to fear
You don't know me, you say, but isn't it clear?
You turn to me in all your wordly greed and pride
But will you turn to me when it's your turn to die?