See the way he stirs up the pot—
that’s no trope; he does it a lot.
My, he sure can make ’em cry—
Better, he makes ’em fry. He’s my guy!

I’ll say it, and I’ll say it loud:
To join with him I’d be so proud.
There’s so many people who decry
terrible things he’s done,
but I see it another way.

He’s the devil, and he never does anything that’s good.
He’s the devil, and he’s got horns hidden under his hood.
But just because he gets so much bad press and so much bad buzz,
that’s no reason why I should sic on him the fuzz.

He might be bad for me, perhaps treat me wretchedly,
but he is the devil, yeah yeah, yeah,
he is the devil, yeah yeah, yeah, for me!

If I can’t make the Faust play,
then I’ll make like Dorian Gray,
and I’ll sell my soul to him without delay.

He’s the devil, and he never does anything that’s good.
He’s the devil, and I’d join forces with him if I could.
But just because he gets so much bad press and so much bad buzz,
that’s no reason why I shouldn’t hew to his cause.

No doubt, he’s a baddie; when they ask, “Who’s your daddy?”
I’ll answer, “The devil!” yeah yeah, yeah
“It is the devil,” yeah yeah, yeah,
“Give me the devil!” yeah yeah, yeah,
“In the pit revel,” yeah yeah, yeah.