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The Devil in Her Letters (For Devilish)
I dive inside the banks of your skull so eagerly as I read.
By every word that flows from your head,
I'm carried away-
deeper into the depths of your mind.
Let me take your head off and wear it for a day.
I want to borrow the thoughts that thrive in there.
Or let me hide where the light can't penetrate -
(on the inside of your chest)
and stuff your talent in my pocket.
That sweet, twisted talent posessing you.
I'm thrilled by the darkness filling the white spaces
and pumped on sickness in every line.
Every verse is so greatly disturbing.
When I'm done with the makings of your soul,
I'm suddenly open to every sexy, grim fantasy I can imagine
and fascinated by your posible insanity.
My goodness !
Devilish,
your brain is like a pen spewing dark, hard ectasy,
and I'm addicted to the splatter of its ink.
By every word that flows from your head,
I'm carried away-
deeper into the depths of your mind.
Let me take your head off and wear it for a day.
I want to borrow the thoughts that thrive in there.
Or let me hide where the light can't penetrate -
(on the inside of your chest)
and stuff your talent in my pocket.
That sweet, twisted talent posessing you.
I'm thrilled by the darkness filling the white spaces
and pumped on sickness in every line.
Every verse is so greatly disturbing.
When I'm done with the makings of your soul,
I'm suddenly open to every sexy, grim fantasy I can imagine
and fascinated by your posible insanity.
My goodness !
Devilish,
your brain is like a pen spewing dark, hard ectasy,
and I'm addicted to the splatter of its ink.
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