I Did Not Read the Terms

Forbidden power was never the difficulty; the difficulty was admitting that every warning had been plainly written.

The darker, measured setting gives the bargain the air of a transaction proceeding exactly as written. Its comedy arrives not through chaos but through accumulating recognition: the patron need never raise his voice, for the contract—and the music—have been in control from the opening clause.

Malice receiveth far too much credit for the world’s wickedness. Confidence is responsible for a considerably larger share. The warlock of this song never intended to surrender himself to darkness; he merely believed himself too clever to suffer the consequences that befall lesser folk. Every signature was accompanied by another reassuring thought: “Surely this clause concerneth someone else.”

The arrangement dependeth upon treating the bargain as perfectly ordinary business. The patron is neither outrageously evil nor the warlock pitiably foolish. They are simply two parties to a legitimate agreement, one of whom possessed the admirable habit of reading contracts from beginning to end. By the final chorus the listener discovereth that the true cost of forbidden power is not the bargain itself, but the quiet realization that every warning had been plainly written from the very beginning.