From the Old World all over your street, and, work environments No retreat Trying to control, their minions, to keep them in check, without treats Most certainly, kissing other people's feet Adviser to the king, so cups are full to the brim Number 9 you are Masonic, not prime A gatekeeper of house of denial Look up what Necro means in Greek It is not a Spanish speak Keeping others in check, you think that brings respect, only the riches that are elect God will rain his hand, over all the sinful bands Nothing will stop that, when we meet our maker, let's see which gate is taker You will sleep in slumber, not with cars, or the houses that could, shade children on the street, destitute with nothing to eat You will lay alone, no cars or houses, at the last resting place Which will be your home, with greed alone Enjoy it now Eternal finds us all somehow