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Pulp
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The Mark of the Devil (Bonus Track)
The Mark of the Devil is upon you;
your look is no happier than mine.
Damnation is waiting in the mirror but you shouldn't mind.
Their legs start a felling in your stomach,
their eyes knock you backwards with aglance.
Your pride sinks unnoticed in the river given a half a chance.
And you past in just a bedroom full of implements of cruelty
and a list will bind your eyes as you grow old
and you want to join the laughter
sharing simple shreds of felling
but you fidget and your heart is gorwing old.
Simles left unfollowed start to haunt you;
chance that perished long ago.
The devil is waiting in your bedroom with your worthless soul.
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The years pull their weight down on your cheekbones,
the nights out are hanging from your waist.
The years float like dust held in the sunlight,
with an aftertaste.
And your past is just a bedroom,
full of implements of cruelty
and a list will bind your eyes as you grow old
and you want to join the laughter
sharing simple shreds of felling
but you fidget and your heart is gorwing old.
Simles left unfollowed start to haunt you;
chance that perished long ago.
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