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 
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.