Sometimes you have that melancholy feeling
that you just can't shake no matter how hard you try
and you fight it and try to run it away
You work your body hard fucking fighting then praying
"take this away, take it off of me Lord"
though you've never been observant of Him before
But the feeling has hold and won't be denied
it's the power that controls and you are merely
the animal it drives
whence you know not
Yet you find yourself hundreds of miles
galaxies and millennia so far from home
the devil is riding you backwards
in speed and spite, no choice but to comply
the self that was you is
submerged into desert windstorms
the devil's heat, perversity of the divine
and just enough stamina left physically
for your soul to unwillingly survive
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