It was the darkest of nights, witching hour was upon us,
The wind was biting, my knees were bloody,
And I had ripped my dress.
The tallest oak tree was torn asunder on the blasted heath
And as I emerged into the clearing,
I heard a familiar sound underneath...
I heard a slight exhalation on the 2nd beat,
The sound of a thousand souls slipping under,
Bass like thunder forty feet deep had my
Toe bones tapping my hip bones a-rattling.
Where the devil is that devil of mine?
Quick step roulette rotating in time.
He could have any heart he wanted but he chose mine.
An extended hand should always been shaken,
An invitation must never be declined,
An appointment must always be kept,
Four steps further into the furnace
Bathed in a hell of a sweat
Rinsed of all I could remember
The gates of hell smell of gin and regret...
He moved towards us his cravat was exquisite,
In the dark silkness is a hint of a diamond
Glittered against his milk white neck.
The way he wore his weary stare had
All the young girls all of a flutter
When his dark eyes met mine
I felt my poor weak heart melt like butter...
A certain scent on the air had me pricking up my ears,
A waft of indecision then a thought of clear precision.
Oh dear sweet Jesus what the hell is that stench?
As the sun rose it's rays exposed something that I would rather forget.
I got in a pelter,
I ran helter skelter and I made it to the top of those infernal steps.