the devil weeps in the laundry room
i kinda shuffle past in gloom
there's a lot on his mind, one would presume
it's best to keep his company in silence

still, the storm is raging in the wash
so i mention my father, turning pages of a book
the devil turns to have a look
tells me he knows all about it

we let the minutes run around
roaches dancing to the drenched sounds
of water breaking through the cracks
of a world full of duck hunters and ducks