Mr. Malum's got a secret he keeps when giving speeches
Just a whispering precision that cuts through hesitation
With a sharp and evil wit to keep the dogs at bay

When the truth arrives, you won't believe your eyes
He's triumph's pessimist, but he's no less content
With the world in the grip of his hands
He'll crush the air out of its lungs

Say we don't want him to have it all
But now it's just too late to ask
Because his hold has turned so tight

His puppets to the left and his pawns to line the right
But every eye is front and center, a cruel intoxication
From the sap that trickles down his branches to their mouths

When the truth arrives, you won't believe your eyes
A vicious champion, but he's no less content
With the world in the grip of his hands
He'll crush the air out of its lungs

Say we don't want him to have it all
But now it's just too late to ask
Because his hold has turned so tight