Idle Hands

With my idle hands

There's nothing I can do

But be the Devil's plaything, baby

And know that I've been used

Her lips are cold

They suffer me

They drag me under, baby

Into your suffering

Let your hands

Do what they will do

Stand inside

Make your Maker's move

And your eyes

Don't look the same

They seem enervated

In denial

Cast like stones

Like you been rode for miles

Rode for miles

My eyes have seen

They have been shown

This is an occupation

To stand alone

I suffer you

You suffer me

We are the Devil's plaything

Into this reckoning

Let your hands

Do what they will do

Stand inside

Make your Maker's move

Your eyes don't look the same

They seem enervated, in denial

Cast like stones

Like you been rode for miles

Rode for miles