The Devil

The devil's in the graveyard reading names of all the ones he tripped up on the way He sits down in the moonlight, wipes his tears staring at the white rose that he placed in front of the grave he visits each day since she slipped away The devil hides his blue eyes in his hand He wipes away the last tears as he stands He hears her voice so clearly on the breeze She's singing like an angel to his weakest knees. So he twists off the cap and tips his head back for that sweet relief. The devil's walking slowly on the street towards his empty condo where he'll creep The silence of his bedroom before he slips into his every nightmare as he sleeps He sees her bright smile at the heavenly gates as he's turned away.