Milck

You take the shape of

Everything that I'm drawn to,

But your eyes

Are dead and red

Red as rust.

Сlever devil devil.

How quickly they do sell their souls

For the feast and the promise of gold

But devil that won't be me.

Искусный дьявол, дьявол.

Как быстро они продают свои души

Ради праздника и обещания золота,

Но дьявол не будет во мне.