Home is where you hang your soul

Me and my landlord have this running gag
The Devil would say this place fits me like a glove
And asks would I stay this time
So I reply that I am just renting until I return above
He would drop my bags with a smile
Like the taste of sin changed his face
He would say I have to fill my own pillows
And point to an empty pillow case
This was something I never understood
From our first encounter to our last parting
But I never had a chance to think about it because
Man can Lucifer party
Snorting coke of succubi
Why have enough when I can have lots
Sweet lemons and strange salts
Only the bullet proof do these kinds of shots
There is being bad and then there is sin
Why have lots when I can have it all
What the hell are these wings for
When It is so much better to fall
I collapse on my plump pillow
After some fun with latex and leather
Can you guess what my pillow is filled with