When I was a young boy he was rational and clean; wanted all the virtues, beckoning unseen. His pleasure was a poet, led me through a wonderland. But the sun went down on this seedy town and the devil’s gone mad.
We pursued exotic pleasures in the backrooms of the halls. Felt good by modern science, natures jewels, and alcohol. I had it all constructed, so good at being bad, but something switched and I’m starting to slip. The devil’s gone mad.
Keep looking, boy. You’ll find it. Keep looking, boy. You’ll find it. Can’t rewind it.
Wonder was a widow in a black pneumonia veil. It hurt so bad. I had such pains in parts that weren’t there. Like you, was born a sinner; gladly took the trade. I thought I had it coming, but I didn’t know nothing. The devil’s gone mad.
Keep looking, boy. You’ll find it. Keep looking, boy. You’ll find it. You’re gonna grind it.
The devil’s gone mad.