I have the registration number that links you
I have all knowledge of your suffering
I know exactly when you frustrate yourself
I bring you water and sell it as wine
I give you your work and much exercise
I offer you your reason to live
I'll perhaps grant you a meeting
I smear honey on your mouth
I give you packaging for your contents
I give you any option
I offer you the pool of meaning
I gift you your personality
Come on over, give me your hand
Come on over to Shadowland
I am the net of life that awaits you
I recommend you everything and nothing
I force you to play with the wrong cards
and offer only your pain as a reward
I give you conflict and much lasciviousness
I catch you in a confused feeling
I tame you to love and purity
I stay totally cool in the heat
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who comes next into Shadowland?
Mirror, mirror, make yourself pretty
Get ready to come along