A tiny seed of wanting starts to grow,
Within the heart where shadows start to flow.
It whispers of the gold and of the fame,
Until you forget the honor of your name.
Greed is a fire that never feels content,
Consuming every moment that is spent.
The more you take, the more you seem to need,
Sowing the thorns of a dark and selfish deed.
For when desire becomes your only king,
You lose the joy that simple mercies bring.
You step on others just to reach the height,
And turn your back upon the morning light.
But every sin is a debt that must be paid,
In the very trap that your own hands have laid.
It rots the spirit and it clouds the eye,
Leaving the truth to wither and to die.
The path of greed leads only to the grave,
To the very things that make a man a slave.
For at the end, when all the lights grow dim,
Death is the harvest of a life of sin.