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.