Sin

The devil wears wing tipped shoes. He carries a sinuous cane and a shining watch on a chain and he licks temptation down my spine like flames across a gasoline floor. His promises, candy laced with razor blades, leaves me craving. When he breaks them, it makes me plead. He makes me forget my name when he looks my way. I'd gladly go to Hell for one more taste of his molten liquid sin.