devil was grown weary, so he hitched a ride 

with a carload of that righteous kind

the chosen people turning back the tide,

motoring ahead to a past of the mind

empty as blue sky. Knew he’d get the vote 

there, trimmed his beard and whitened his skin,

(that charcoaled hue would not do), seamless jesus coat 

too, said call me Luce, I’m here for the win

where we headed anyhow? I know

a place! Let me ride shotgun, you’re my type,

y’all are doing great, but do let me show

a few more  tricks, it’s about shaping the hype

whatever makes the sale, pass as gold your tin

‘cause fighting for the right, by god! It’s never a sin.