A Conversation With The Devil

I get what I want this time baby

Foul temptress I want it too

This hell, this doom baby



I find I cannot part

with this shadow of a thought.

Desire in my lips is precious to me



Like air or blood or jewels that shine

in the sky baby or sweat that runs down your spine like a river



I find I cannot part

with this shadow of a thought

Desire in my lips is precious



precious to me