I met her at the Cross roads. It was well past 2:00. She said, "Where you going boy?" Like she already knew? She was dressed for a funeral, but sure looked fine I didn't dare ask who's Cause it felt like mine. She said, "Won't you join me for a midnight drive?" To which I did. To which I did. She smelled like a graveyard, But shined as the Sun. She handed me a business card, and said, "Are you down for some fun?" But there was no # just a name, "The Morning Star". The Morning Star. And I tasted sulphur. When I spoke her name. She asked, "If I'd make a wager, to have wealth and fame." She offered me a guitar. That she kept in the trunk. Said that, "It was made in Hell by a most sinful monk. She asked me if I "Played?", knowing damn well I did. I said, "I might, if the price was right." (But I had already lost my soul In a previous fight.) "I don't have no money, a job, or a home. I'm just a Gypsy Bard. Born to sing and roam. She said, "Well that's fine, yes, that's quite fine. I'll still make you mine." And she did, the Morning Star. The Morning Star.