Besedila: Gatsby's American Dream. A Conversation With The Devil.

"I get what I want this time baby."
Foul temptress I want it too
This hell, this doom baby
I find I cannot part with this shadow of a thought
Desire in my lips is precious to me
Like air or blood or jewels that shine in the sky baby
Or sweat that runs down your spine like a river
I find I cannot part with this shadow of a thought

Desire in my lips is precious, precious to me