What if, the Devil was a woman?
Her wrath would be with wicked love
Gripping your heart, until you're chokin'
Hell, is what you're made of.
Dancing barefoot underneath the moonlight,
Her spells are cast with grit and thorns
Harvesting the ego that you beg for,
Leaving you, wanting more.
What if the Devil was a woman?
Her beaming eyes look up above,
Her touch is that of violent oceans,
Her kisses, storms of mourning doves
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