The hermit and the hierophant

Dream hand in hand together

Lovers pull the chariot

And weave the road of fools



The priestess wears a mini skirt

And invites all the boys in

This temple is no holy place

There are merchants at the door



The kings and queens are all inside

Resorting to their magic

The hanged man tries a different death

Still more or less the same



The devil dons a flower crown

And chases lower prices

Brags about his victory

And the virtues of the void



Still the clocks are counting

All their coded falsehoods

The shine from the stars

Appears red upon the tower

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