Lucious

I guess I'm a devil. I was born evil, even God told me so.

No one understands me, maybe I should just let it go.

Should I even try? I can't win for chasing my own happiness!

In the middle of the street, I'm thinking ‘'Maybe I could take a nap in this.”

They call me Lucious, so awfully close to Lucifer.

I can be a hot-head, but the term is ‘thermonuclear'.

They called me selfish. I only think of myself.

But if I lost it all, there'd always be my health.

They think I'm the Devil!

I suspect they're right for once, a heart with horns comes with plenty scrapes and cuts.

They call me Lucious, which means seductive, also opulent.

I fall in love with danger, I'm not less approximate.

Conclusions, I'd skip to, then I say fuck it!

If I'm faced with a gun, I'd fight the urge to jump it.

Who needs a heart full of love when there's not a soul to give it to?

I've a dozen scarlet letter's, and I'm tired of them too.

Yes, they call me Lucious! A devil to the touch.

Roses come with thorns, pretending they won't see this much.

They call me cold. Because I used to be a lover.

I was turned into a fighter just to guard my heart from others.

Even if I'm the Devil, then even I must compromise.

And if I really like someone, yes I still get butterflies.

I'm a wee bit heartless, some of which, I'm half to blame.

I trusted the wrong person, then I never was the same.

They call me Lucious.

So don't assume there's much relation.

How's it feel to see the black inside a blue and green creation.

Yes, some say I heal. Or think I'm dead, in hell.

Nothing can snuff my fire, not even death itself!