Skyclad

Hear my tale - I'm norman normal, always humble, mild and meek.
In my bank a lowly banker - run-down brach on nowhere street
'till one day a stranger called - a fetid bible black he laughed,
said "Sonny I don't want your money, I don't need an overdraft.
Boy you have a great potential, don't you let it go to waste.
My offer ends - so it's essential that you hurry on (make haste!).
For a life of milk and honey sign along the dotted line...
Thirty years of girls and money - at the end your soul is mine!"
No one can dissuade me - I'm donw on my knees,
my conscience says "No" - my libido "Yes please!"
If I put my pen to paper for eternity I'm damned.
If I don't I'll never be the singer in a fiddel band.
Can anyone blame me? - I don't think they'd dare,
my soul says "No way" - But my mouth cries "Oh yeah!"
Here I am - your good friend norman, not so humble anymore.
Others age - but I look younger, stronger that I did before.
I used to drive a Fiat Panda - now a lime green Cadillac.
Guess my story goes to show not all the 'devils' own' dig black.