I've sold my soul to the devil.
It cost me my sanity.
I haven't been using it for a long time, but now I can't even cry.
They told me it's the only way to stop feeling, devil women don't feel a thing, but they lied - I still feel it all, and much stronger.

I've sold my soul to the devil.
It cost me my sanity.
I did it to forget her, but it didn't help.
Forget her, remember her, admire her, not admire her, love her because I don't know better.
and she's after all human, and i'm the devils's slave.

I've sold my soul to the devil.
It cost me my sanity.
And the devil is actually a woman, and not just a woman but a real lady.
And she, ruler of the world, lives there in her distant palace, living a life of happiness and joy.
There's no pain in hell and no torture, not too hot and not too cold and there's always plenty to eat.
But every one who lives there loves someone more than himself, someone who's prefectly normal and human.

I've sold my soul to the devil.
It cost me my sanity.
The only thing I have left is the writing and even that's not willingful but an existential need
(Like drinking or breathing),
and the brain doesn't stop, thinking all the time, adding words to sentences, sentences to paragraphs, paragraphs to stories, songs or letters.

I've sold my soul to the devil.
It cost me my sanity.
I gave it away because I didn't want it, and now I'm missing.
I'm left alone among a crowd of people trying to swim against the current, against the thought.
And she, the one I loved, still can't see that
I've sold my soul to the devil,
It cost me my sanity.
And I'd do it again to ease both our pains.