Blissfully, (she) sings to me: "It’s the devil that I love.”
Three A.M.’s back again and the girls are fast asleep, tucked into their beds up above
Down below, I have nowhere else left to go
Six grey hairs and the fangs of another night playing uncle in this home
What I fear—what I know—is that these girls will never know
All their prayers on their knees won’t stop men just like me from preying, male gazing, drink-lacing—from turning coddled lives to living hell
Oh, young American girls in young American rooms with young American dreams in young American wombs
No matter how much you pray, no matter how much you hide, there’s a dorm, there’s a church full of American boys drunk on American thighs singing: If it’s the devil that’s in me, then it's the devil I love
Cross my heart and hope to die
If it’s the devil in me, then it's the devil I love
One below, and nothing up above
Three A.M.’s back again
I’m dialing digits on my phone
’Cause it’s true: even men just like me, raised properly, respectfully, have something hiding, something fighting to drag us all below
It’s the devil I love
Devil that I love