| I come home and she's there waiting | |
| So sweet and tender, honest kind | |
| Dim lighting, candles burning | |
| That bitch must have something to hide | |
| She's a bit too nice this evening | |
| Suspicion makes me a bit vile | |
| I'll skin her before morning | |
| And find out what's behind that smile | |
| It's nothing, it must be all in my head | |
| I think the devil is hiding behind her smile, whoa, whoa | |
| Darkness disguised as the morning light, whoa | |
| What's there behind the closed door? | |
| Imaginations spinning hard | |
| She's hiding something hardcore | |
| No choice, I'll rip that bitch apart | |
| Blood drips down from the ceiling | |
| She's spread around like modern art | |
| How can I hear her calling? | |
| Come down dear, dinner's gonna start | |
| It's something, it can't be all in my head | |
| I think the devil is hiding behind her smile, whoa, whoa | |
| Darkness disguised as the morning light, whoa | |
| Whoa, whoa | |
| Whoa, whoa | |
| Whoa | |
| The devil is hiding behind her smile, whoa, whoa | |
| Darkness disguised as the morning light, whoa | |
| The devil is hiding behind her smile, whoa, whoa | |
| She's like darkness disguised as the morning light, whoa |