Samael

There's a demon in my bed.

His skin is hot, his eyes are red,

And his thoughts are in my head

But I don't want him out.

The tempter has met with his sin,

One fallen subject to human skin.

A finger travels down his chin

And my hand is at his throat.

Lucifer the ever-proud,

Tumbled from the highest crowd.

Never then nor now allowed

The lust that sin would sprout.

No wings has he in temporal form,

The devil may care about the norm.

His hands are thunder, his eyes, the storm

His fate, the words they wrote.