WE’RE bound by baser instincts
Which we must struggle through;
The thing we call the devil
Was born in me and you.

He thrives on thoughts of envy,
On jealousy and hate;
When we’re unhappy and distraught
Our devil feels first-rate.

He points to power, wealth and fame—
All these we’d like to see;
When these obsessions grip our souls
He’s full of devilish glee.

Unbridled passion is his meat,
When we are low and vile;
When we are sinking like a ship,
It makes our devil smile.

But when our sleeping souls awake
And evil we forsake,
The finer feelings in our hearts
Make our old devil quake.

And when we know the right from wrong;
That right’s the thing that lasts,
There is no food for our false friend—
Then our old devil fasts.

So evil passions make him strong,
His poison is the good;
When we are filled with peace and love,
He dies for want of food.
—Author unknown.

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