Not to beat a dead horse, but you mustn't listen to a word she says. She'll weave a web and keep spinning till all that is lucid and reasonable becomes nothing, supplanted by nonsense so convoluted that your only recourse is taking solace in that which offers none whatsoever. To meditate upon her lackadaisical derivations is to dive headlong into the salivating maw of oblivion; to forgo matters of genuine importance; to neglect attachments and, ultimately; to entertain a shadow as shallow as the lyrics she spouts without merit. Seek meaning, sink deeper; that's all there is to it.
If there's one thing that never seems to go out of fashion in these modern times, it's the Devil. Novels, television, video games, pornography, small-claims courts; you name it, he does it, and music is no exception. People can't get enough of him, which in this case is rather peculiar considering that, metaphors aside, I can't imagine a great number of people waiting in line to dance with the guy, and even if there were, it's not like he's Patrick Swayze or anything, and even if he were, I've already put Baby in the corner so there will be no dancing here, devil worshippers.