Valhalla is where all the righteous are led/Mulholland is where all the damned will be kept/Devil on my lap and a cross on my neck/Cross on my neck, cross on my neck
He’s being dark and mysterious, thinking that being damned somehow equates to artistry. It’s the old tortured soul routine, which is a transparent move even for him. All the bellyaching makes for a needlessly dramatic play that can be figured out within moments of the opening scene. The beat is touched with a very special type of gaudiness that makes it perfect for the sobfest that’s unfolding.