The Devil You Don't

The Devil You Don't

As far as men went, it was damn hard to match him
With references so vague even the fans couldn’t catch ‘em
Hair slicked back, sat way back, watched the world go by
Decadence was simply shooting smoke rings at the sky

Princely styled was his suit, his tailcoat and his hat
A cane he often knelt upon, a lavish one, at that
The grin he wore was white on white, like diamonds in a storm
From violence and ignorance his shapely self was born

But as for her—a recent one, her face just nearly new
With golden locks and knee-high socks, not quite sure what to do
He spotted her across the floor, their eyes met in no time
Right then he took it in his heart to steal that heav’nly shine.

With an arm so deft and dark and strong (he’d done this thing before)
He swept the maiden off her feet, and then right off the floor
A dazzling sweep of an elegant hand and then the two were gone
Her jaw hung open like an old marble bridge, but she passed it off as a yawn

And it was really tempting, the way she tried to speak
Her eyes were clouded by the smoke, and she was far too meek
“Money’s not an issue, babe,” and in these words she trusted
His hair, of course, was slicked with blood-- now I’m half-way disgusted

Her heart so fast entwined with his, he licked his lips and moaned
A finger’s flick, he fell so quick, blood gushing as he groaned
She brushed his corpse with golden hair and gave a subtle gloat
“It’s better the devil you know, my dear, than the devil that you don’t.”