The son of a muse who could play the lyre
He played the devil and won his lover
His playing was so good, he could inspire
He yearned for the girl who was his rapper

The devil told him he would make a deal
As long as he would not peek at the girl
And for him the deal was totally real
But if he was to peek she would unfurl

therefore he made the trade with the devil
as he walked through the cave without a doubt
it soon became, not to peek, a battle
he peeked and got the best, he did without

in solitude he got destroyed by maidens
oceans and rivers had turned shades of crimsons.