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I've got devil's eyes
And a means to an end
I've got worlds to burn
And some dangerous friends
I've got writer's hands
And a martyr's mouth
I've got wicked intent
And an urge to turn south
I've got a first-class ticket
On a hell bound plane
I've got ideals to deny
And some distance on sane
I've got some blank pages
And some words that I wrote
I've got a cynical smile
And a star in my throat
I've got a girl I can't trust
And a life I regret
I've got places to be
And people to forget
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Works well could be about a person or the devil. If south is there just for some rhyme then its north that is often ascociated with the evil one in western thought. A potent poem.
