Too Little, Too Late

The speaker questions if you call upon your savior in times of need, when your sins consume you. They ask if you beg for mercy from the devil after morality is lost. They mention the fear of hell's fury and regretting too late. They ask if you pray desperately, only to find no mercy. They ask if you show remorse for your sins. They say you can't run from your past and must face the consequences. They say your regrets will fade away and you must pay for your sinful pleasures. Your soul is the devil's treasure and life is a carnival of decay. Do you breathe the name of your saviour in your hour of need, when your sins breathe the light into dormant desires? Do you plead for compassion and mercy from the demon seed after morality turns to ash on human piles? Do you fear the wrath of the fury of hell, ruin your corrupt past, your heart willfully whispering, too little, too late? Do you scream at the vision before you, about to breathe your last, when standing in the garish glow of the ninth gate? Do you utter prayers in dire desperation to fall upon merciful ears, which dismally lie on your lips in violent futility? Do you seek to show a trace of remorse for sinful deeds of your years, to repossess some scintilla of long-lost humility? You cannot run or hide away, the price is paid upon that day. Bygone transgressions will remain, while dissipating like sun is the gaze, and forward through flames appears he who readily awakes to collect his fee. Now you must pay for your iniquitous pleasure, for your eternal soul is his ultimate treasure, with all regrets flowing away like dust, while what is left of life is a mere carnival of rust.