Ten Sixths Ten Shillings Six Pence
(In a place where dusk reigns supreme,)
In a place where dusk reigns supreme,
You can’t buy back what’s already sold—
Ten Sixths, Ten Shillings Six Pence,
The price of a soul consumed by gold.
I wasn’t always part of this scheme,
Walking clean through the garden gate,
Now dirt’s caked under my fingernails,
My tongue has met its fate.
They mutter deals in the dying light,
Contracts signed in smoke and smoke,
Every word a hook sunk in my skin,
Every promise just another yoke.
In a place where dusk reigns supreme,
You can’t buy back what’s already sold—
Ten Sixths, Ten Shillings Six Pence,
The price of a soul consumed by gold.
I sold the parts that wouldn’t grow back,
Traded light for whatever they paid,
Now I’m drowning in the aftermath,
In a darkness that won’t fade.
The money talks but says nothing true,
Just the clink of coins and chain,
I wasn’t always part of this scheme,
Now I drown in endless shame.