Pins and needles, needles and pins,
once again the game begins.
There are no rules and nobody wins
the prizes on display.
Listen to the empty words that they say
as they slither in and out of shadows.
feeding on the weak minded fools
who labor their lives away
in construction of their own gallows.
Never do they pause to wonder
if it might all be in vain,
until blue skies have turned black
and nothing can kill the pain.

Pins and needles, needles and pins,
oh, how we love blaming the father for our sins.
With pride and pomp, we wallow in blood,
like pigs at play in the mud,
oblivious of our own decay
and the smell of death
hanging in the air so thickly
that even the strongest amongst us
has grown pale and sickly.
The holes in our souls ooze with infection.
Still, we delve deeper into the slime
seeking protection
in the arms of the dark entity.

Pins and needles, needles and pins,
gaze upon Death's face and see how she grins,
as men tell their lies and spin their spins,
desperate to delay
the inevitable for even one more day.
But, life cannot be stolen or bought.
None escape this web, once they are caught.
Some fight with all their might,
refusing to except the light as a guide.
Death though, will not be denied.
Regardless how much one loves or hates,
all must pass through the same gates
and hand over the controls
to enter the realm of souls.