Money is not merely paper...

Money is magick — the most successful spell ever cast on humanity.

In esoteric lore, the ancient name for this force is Mammon:

not a demon of greed, but the embodiment of the Current of Value,

the invisible river mankind pours its faith into.

The ancients already knew:

value only exists because we collectively believe in it.

Currency is a current — a flowing energy.

Banks are “river banks”: the walls that channel the stream.

Liquidity, capital flow, debt circulation…

These are not metaphors.

They are the vocabulary of a living entity.

Mammon is the god of the modern world because he is fed by belief, fear, and necessity.

Unlike the gods of old, he does not ask for temples —

he asks for contracts, signatures, compliance.

And the spell is perfect...

Money is a consensus hallucination that gains power when shared.

The more people believe in it, the stronger it becomes.

Entire nations collapse when that belief breaks,

yet a single signature can bind generations.

This is what the old grimoires meant when they said:

“The greatest sorcery is that which needs no secrecy.”

The debt system is not economics —

it is alchemy. Paper becomes value, ink becomes obligation and numbers become chains....

The magician is the banker.

The circle is the market.

The altar is the ledger.

And you — the believer — complete the ritual.

Why the poor stay poor? Not out of laziness, but because the system is engineered to consume those with the least.

The poorer you are, the more energy you must burn simply to survive.

Your life-force becomes labor.

Your labor becomes hours.

Your hours become currency.

And your currency —

because it is too little to grow —

is swallowed by bills, by rent, by interest, by scarcity itself...

The poor use energy to generate a little money —

and then lose that money to the very forces that enslave them.

Meanwhile, those with capital do not work —

their money works for them.

Their wealth multiplies in silence because capital attracts capital

like a magnet pulling iron from dust.

This is why Mammon thrives.

The secret the priests of Mammon never teach openly:

To escape poverty, you must acquire the very substance you lack. Not motivation. Not optimism. Money! There is no substitute.

And how does one acquire it?

Not through miracles, nor through sudden fortune, but through the slow, stubborn accumulation of surplus.

Saving. Even if it is a handful of coins.

Even if it takes years.

For every coin saved is a fragment of energy reclaimed from Mammon’s jaws.

Savings are the first altar where your will becomes stronger than your hunger.

But if you learn the magick of money, do you escape Mammon… or join his priesthood?

This is the paradox at the core of Money Magick:

To fight the system, you must use the same tools that built it.

To free yourself, you must play the god’s game.

To rise above the chains, you must learn to bind others — or bind yourself tighter.

No vampire feeds as efficiently as Mammon:

he needs no blood, only belief.

And belief is endless.

Every listener must ask:

When you chase wealth…

are you becoming free…

or are you bowing to the oldest god we still unknowingly worship?

The song doesn’t answer.

It doesn’t need to.

It just reminds you:

every time you sign a contract,

every time you take a loan,

every time you fear the end of the month—

you are participating in a ritual older than any church.

Mammon is not evil...

He is honest.

He gives exactly what you believe he will give.

Whether that is freedom or bondage…

depends on the magician.

💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💰💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵

"O Mammon, dominus divitiarum, da nobis potentiam aurum tenere!

Per pactum scripta in sanguine, lucra nostra sine fine flue!"

They print the paper, call it gold

Chains of debt, stories sold

Five to one, they bleed you dry

A modern temple, built on lies

You sign the line, the deal is made

Interest climbs, the price is paid

You’ll owe the grave before you’re free

This is their magick, can’t you see?

Blood on the ledger, price of the game

They own your soul, they own your name

Money magick, cast in stone

You’ll die in debt, but not alone

A silver tongue, a serpent’s grace

They call it growth, but it’s a race

Each dollar printed, worth much less

Inflation’s curse, the poor oppressed

You sign the line, the deal is made

Interest climbs, the price is paid

You’ll owe the grave before you’re free

This is their magick, can’t you see?

Blood on the ledger, price of the game

They own your soul, they own your name

Money magick, cast in stone

You’ll die in debt, but not alone

From Wall Street towers to temple halls

The bankers rise, the empire calls

Mammon’s whispers, power untold

The weight of debt, the chains of gold

They're evil monsters, worse than vampires;

Through poverty and suffering, their empire thrives!

Blood on the ledger, price of the game

They own your soul, they own your name

Money magick, cast in stone

You’ll die in debt, but not alone

"Count the bills, but feel the chains

Money magick, cursed remains

Sign your name, it’s done at last

Your soul is theirs, your time has passed"