Myssouri Devil On My Shoulder
There's a devil on my shoulder and an angel on my mind.
God, I want to hold her, feel her heavenly design.
There's a worm inside a bottle, and a fisherman at sea.
The worm has turned to tell me that he's got a hook for
me. There's a devil on my shoulder and an angel at my
side. Can I undress your vessel, view your cultural
divide? There's a ship inside a bottle, and a serpent in
the sea. You slip your slip just like a model and you
fake a smile for me. You slip your slip just like a model
and you fake a smile for me. I am washed upon your
shallows with my flicking devil's tongue. Singing songs
about the gallows where all devils are well hung. And in
the deep red tide that heaves and swells and pulls me all
asunder, I think I hear Pavlov's hypnotic knells: They
nominate my hunger. There's a devil on my shoulder and an
angel going blind. I'm in her milky, sultry cosmos, but
her body's undefined. There's a devil on my shoulder, and
I'm running out of patience: Can I use my hands to mold
her to my specifications? Can I use my hands to mold her
to my specifications? There's an angel in my headlights
and a devil at the wheel. And now I've merged my
birth/death destinies into a singular appeal: If I could
worship at your chalice, I'd resuscitate my soul. And
then she leads me to her palace saying, "Hell ain't half
full." And then she leads me to her palace saying, "Hell
ain't half full." There's a birthmark on my shoulder, and
a red coal in my brain.
