I met the devil when I saw my empty bed.
Evil thoughts cursed my dreams, plagued my head.
I miss your smell in the sheets and under my nails—
I watch the oceans and the sky where you set sail.

I will travel to places where sin lies under the sky.
I will met God, but he won’t make me cry.
My tears belong to the woman who left,
Because your pleasure is my priority, and your love my craft.