The Devil's Due

“Come on in, bring all your friends,”
the Devil chided me.
“Forget your sin, you're gonna' win,
now, just you wait and see!

The weather's very warm down here,
oh, yeah, it's very nice.
Now, don't dismay, you're on your way.
But still... there is a price.”

From 'neath his skin he pulled a pen,
and parchment I should sign,
“Don't you worry— there's no hurry.
Sign on the dotted line.”

His breath smelled foul, I will avow,
I wanted just to go,
“Now, don't you fret, because, I'll bet,
the fine print's caused you some woe.

It's really very simple, see,
 a mere formality.
In layman's terms – when you are dead –
your soul belongs to me.

If fame and fortune's what you seek,
your work, I will enhance,
the masses, all will follow you –
boy, here's your final chance!”

I stood shivering, body quivering—
as my hand lingered there.
Yet, if I signed I'd be resigned
to life without a care.

But after death just where I'd go
was now what troubled me;
“Don't back out, man, I'll be a fan,
just sign—” he said—“you'll see!”

By now, you're probably wondering
if I had signed or not.
By writing this, I've been remiss,
put myself on the spot.

I'll simply plead the fifth, you see,
  and write without delay;
All I can say is turn away,
if next he comes your way!