Pay The Devil (Tambourine)

You know, I know
the devil shaking in my legs knows
nerves are clanking
like a gospel tambourine.
Fingernails scraping
white stripes in the wood
legs are trembling
in the ecstasies of
fire.

I used to think church
was the place to feel the spirit
when my spirit was light, but
as I got older, my spirit
looked to clinging, to hover
in the fringes of the bowels
of the dark and desperate
hells we call out nature

Tonight, Hell is on
this Atlantic City dancefloor
hell is a court with the
thrones in 750 dollar booths
Hell is red patent leather
and a 16 dollar cocktail
and five flights of stairs
Hell is my heaven to me.

I’m not a woman of faith
I have no use or desire
for God. No thrist in my spirit
he can quell,
The devil is a different matter,
the devil I love to corner
oh and I love to pay the devil
he loves to take my coin.