Devil you’re ice out cold.
Sending mix signals, you like to put on a show.
Master of emotions, poison victims image when they’re low.
Examine your attentions on different people under quality control.
Mmm, you like to test my worth, asking for God’s permission just to see if I’ll sin again.
You grew from a mighty titan angel to this fallen illusion magician.
Aroused from the thrill of being king of the underworld like your soul is free.
I question your position there cause hell is really beneath me.
Not joking, who you think you provoking?
I mean you think you slick for trying to keep my wounds open.
I mean I’m forever God’s vessel, never your black token.
Those wicked rituals your followers steady be coding.
Things my soul refuse to soak in.
Don’t need any validation, I’m not trying to live perfect.
And if you think I want that, I promise you I don’t need it.
Before I lay me down to sleep, I pray my soul to rest and peace,
to the heavens.