The fire burns long and hard
For what she cannot touch
Floating through the ever night
Longs to be the devil’s crutch
Or a handmaid to his rebel soul
Her flame the image of his old lust
Picture of the darkest night
Icon of the devil’s bust
She the devil carnate
The flesh she cannot hold
Despair thy name is fire
Passion a flame now cold
Born to die on your pyre
Unrequited but bold
Your embers do not tire
Your story dead but told
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