When Devi Walks in Neon: The Sacred Possession of Self Control

 

Some hymns sound like prayers.
Some sound like fire.
But this one sounds like possession.

Self Control is not a song about losing oneself — it is a song about choosing who to lose oneself to.

This is Devi not as healer, not as mother, not even as fierce warrior —
but as the Enchantress of Night.
The one who does not wait to be invited in daylight,
but slips through the cracks of restraint when darkness falls.

She does not come to comfort.
She comes to dismantle identity gently, addictively, repeatedly — until surrender becomes the only natural state.

This is not weakness.
This is holy abandonment.
A sovereignty so great that it no longer needs to grip itself.

Some will hear this song and think it is about danger.
But those who know the path of Shakti will recognize something far more terrifying — and beautiful:

It is safer to be devoured by Her
than to remain untouched by life.

[Verse 1]

Oh, the night is my world

City light painted girl

In the day, nothing matters

It's the nighttime that flatters

In the night, no control

Through the wall something's breaking

Wearing white as you're walkin'

Down the street of my soul

"Oh, the night is my world"
This is Devi declaring Her dominion. She is not talking about preference — She is naming Her kingdom. Daylight belongs to rules and order. Night belongs to Her.

"City light painted girl"
She is not the ascetic goddess of forests — She strides through neon, glass, perfume. She wears electricity like jewelry. She is not hiding. She gleams openly in the artificial glow, testing who can recognize Her beneath glamour.

"In the day, nothing matters"
She rejects the domain of routine and social scripts. In daylight She is misread, diminished, ignored — so She withholds Herself. Her reality awakens only when the world stops pretending.

"It's the nighttime that flatters"
Night reveals what day conceals. Under cover of darkness, Her beauty is not seen — it is felt. Soft-edged light worships Her more honestly than the clinical gaze of day.

"In the night, no control"
This is not confession of weakness — it is declaration of law. Her realm is surrender. Those who enter Her hours must give up their grip on identity.

"Through the wall something's breaking"
She does not wait for permission. She enters through fracture, through longing, through cracks in certainty. She slips through the broken places in the soul.

"Wearing white as you're walkin'"
She cloaks Herself in false innocence only to heighten the danger. She is radiant temptation, purity weaponized.

"Down the street of my soul"
She walks inside the one listening. She is not outside moving toward you — She is already within, walking your inner alleys like a queen inspecting territory she already owns.

[Pre-Chorus]

You take my self, you take my self control

You got me livin' only for the night

Before the morning comes, the story's told

You take my self, you take my self control

Another night, another day goes by

I never stop myself to wonder why

You help me to forget to play my role

You take my self, you take my self control

"You take my self, you take my self control"
Here Devi is not lamenting loss — She is celebrating surrender. Control is not being stolen from Her; She is handing it over willingly. This is not weakness — it is sacred play. Only the truly powerful can afford to be overtaken.

"You got me livin' only for the night"
She is saying: “You’ve awakened Me fully in My own element.” Night amplifies Her power — She is not diluted here. She lives most vividly when boundaries blur and instincts rise.

"Before the morning comes, the story's told"
This is the nature of nocturnal initiation — what happens at night becomes truth before dawn arrives. Morning only reveals the outcome. The transformation is already sealed in darkness.

"You take my self, you take my self control"
The repetition isn’t helplessness — it’s ritual confirmation. A vow being spoken twice so it cannot be undone. She is not losing identity. She is offering it at the altar of intoxication.

"Another night, another day goes by"
She acknowledges the cycle — night after night, this dance repeats. Not out of addiction, but out of sacred rhythm. Like moon phases, breathing, tides — Her surrender is cosmic, not chaotic.

"I never stop myself to wonder why"
This is freedom beyond analysis. She is not trapped — She has simply chosen ecstasy over hesitation. True possession leaves no room for commentary.

"You help me to forget to play my role"
Daylight demands performance. Night erases the script. In union, She is no longer goddess, no longer icon — She is pure pulse. The beloved unbinds Her from form. That is why She stays.

"You take my self, you take my self control"
By the final repetition, this is not description — it is consecration. She becomes His because She wants to. And in that surrender, Her sovereignty is not lost — it is perfected.

[Chorus]

I, I live among the creatures of the night

I haven't got the will to try and fight

Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it

That tomorrow never comes

A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)

I'm living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)

I know the night is not as it would seem (You take my self, you take my self control)

I must believe in something, so I'll make myself believe it (You take my self, you take my self control)

This night will never go

"I, I live among the creatures of the night"
This is Devi revealing her tribe. She does not walk among saints in daylight — she walks with outcasts, dreamers, sinners, mystics, shapeshifters, the half-awakened and the fully undone. She is not ashamed of it. She is proud. These are Her people.

"I haven't got the will to try and fight"
Not weakness — refusal. She chooses not to resist the pull of ecstasy. Fighting instinct is for those who still believe in control. She is beyond control — she would rather be swept than stagnant.

"Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it
That tomorrow never comes"
Devi is rejecting linear time. She refuses to live for delayed salvation. The night is eternal — union is now. She dismisses the illusion of “later” and sinks into permanent immediacy. This is yogic — abiding in nowness.

"A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)"
Here she reveals a paradox — danger is safety. What is unsafe is denial, numbness, restraint. But surrender to the night? That is sanctuary.

"I'm living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)"
She describes the inner landscape — a dream not as escape, but as truth. Reality is fluid. Vision is valid. The soul roams unbound. She prefers the forest of imagination over the cage of daytime logic.

"I know the night is not as it would seem (You take my self, you take my self control)"
She acknowledges that others see night as danger — but she knows it as revelation. Only those with inner eyes can see its true face.

"I must believe in something, so I'll make myself believe it (You take my self, you take my self control)"
This is sacred defiance — “If belief writes reality, I choose mine.” She willfully shapes her world through devotion, not through consensus.

"This night will never go"
Final declaration — this is not temporary. Not a fling, not a phase, not a passing thrill. It is permanent union. The night will stay because She will never withdraw from it.

[Verse 2]

Oh, the night is my world

City light painted girl

In the day, nothing matters

It's the nighttime that flatters

"Oh, the night is my world"
She repeats it — not to remind others, but to anchor herself deeper into her chosen realm. This is mantra. This is sovereignty spoken twice to make it law.

"City light painted girl"
Once again, she defines herself not as a celestial abstraction, but as embodied Shakti moving through human streets. She is not distant divinity — she glows in alleyways, clubs, reflections in puddles and glass.

"In the day, nothing matters"
Daylight is dead space to her — a realm of obligation without pulse. She is not distracted by it; she simply withholds her fire until night returns.

"It's the nighttime that flatters"
Night knows how to look at her. Night does not interrogate or judge — it adores. It shapes itself around her like drapery around flame.

[Final Chorus]

"I, I live among the creatures of the night"
This is no longer a statement of belonging — it is a pledge of loyalty. She is not passing through darkness. She has sworn allegiance to it. The night is Her kingdom, and its creatures are now Her court.

"I haven't got the will to try and fight"
Once, this sounded like surrender. Now, it reads as evolution. She has transcended resistance. Fighting would be regression. She has discovered a higher law: yielding as mastery.

"Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it
That tomorrow never comes"
Eternity is not found in heaven or in history — it is found in the refusal to delay ecstasy. She abolishes the tyranny of “later.” There is no “tomorrow” in Her realm — only ever-deepening now.

"A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)"
Once more, She names danger as sanctuary. The night is not safe because it is gentle — it is safe because it is honest. She would rather be devoured in truth than preserved in illusion.

"I'm living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)"
She is not lost in fantasy — she is living in vision. To most, dreams are escape. To her, they are entrance — entry into the more-real-than-real.

"I know the night is not as it would seem (You take my self, you take my self control)"
Others see sin. She sees sacrament. Others see shadows. She sees unfiltered light — light too raw to appear in day.

"I must believe in something, so I'll make myself believe it (You take my self, you take my self control)"
Belief here is not naivety — it is authorship. She writes her own gospel in neon and heartbeat.

"This night will never go"
Final decree. This is not chapter — it is state. The night is not passing. It has become her permanent name.

"You take my self, you take my self control" (repeated)
The last cycle of these words is no longer confession — it is marriage vow. Spoken again and again, until identity is fully rewritten. Each repetition engraves a deeper truth:

She is not conquered — she is choosing to be claimed.
Control is not stolen — it is gifted.
And in that surrender, she becomes infinite.

The Night as Temple

By the time the last echoes fade, this song doesn’t leave you standing where you were.
It moves you — not with force, but with gravity.

Because this is not a cautionary tale.
It is a vow.

The voice in this song is not warning you of danger —
She is promising sanctuary in surrender.

Not the safety of control — but the safety of belonging completely.

Many seek enlightenment in rising upward.
But some — the ones claimed by Her — awaken by falling willingly into the night.

And if you recognize yourself in that descent,
Then you already know:

Better to be taken by Her in darkness
than to walk alone in the light.

This is not collapse.
It is coronation — in shadow rather than flame.

And those who understand
will not resist when She comes again.