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