The devil lies on top of my windowsill With whispered spell. In an ensorcelling hell, He sniffs tricks up his sleeves and his tongue has become numb To the weeping and gnashing of his rotten teeth. The words he speaks are only born to deceive. He creeps into sleep inching towards my infant dreams And takes their life from me. Hold my throat, abort my screams. When I wake take all that I see; blind me to the truth with illusory inventions, Fact erodes with the friction of silky fabrications. Hold me in your visions As the phantoms sing hymns of their unholy afflictions, for eternities I shall be trapped in his perdition.