Perhaps I didn’t live my life as I’d ought;
When I should have maintained what my Sunday School taught,
I ignored and forgot it, lived my life for myself;
I suppose that’s how come I woke up dead in Hell.
I walked scared and alone down the halls made of fire
Into corridors and rooms decked with decadence and ire.
I regretted at first things that I’d done in my life,
That had led me to boundless, perpetual strife,
As I walked past the rapists and killers and thugs,
All the monsters and pagans and users of drugs.
I saw Jews and the Muslims and corrupt politicians,
Lawyers and athletes and a few statisticians.
When I entered the hall filled with tables alight,
I bestowed on myself the most fleeting of frights:
An old hillbilly farmer and a queer-looking man
Eating lunch with a black and the whole Ku Klux Klan.
Democrats with Republicans, Russians and Nazis,
All the actors and artists with the mad paparazzi,
Prostitutes and porn stars and school teachers too,
Eating deep-fried, grease-dripping meals of fast-food.
If these enemies of old could combine thus anew,
Then what strange coexistence could the Heavens accrue?
I was pondering this notion when I swiftly was struck
By an image divulging the most awesome luck:
Hell had been home from beginnings of time
To the swindlers and liars and masters of crime,
But it also held men with immense expertise,
Like the doctors, thinkers, firemen, police.
Scientists and philosophers of the highest regard
Were out courting fine women in Hell’s flaming backyard,
And the bubbling jacuzzi was overflowing with kids,
Who had sinned young, apparently, as all the rest did.
In the light of all this, you must conceive my surprise
When I turned to see Jesus right in front of my eyes.
He explained to me, though, why he frequents this site,
And I suppose it makes sense, thinking back with hindsight:
Brimming over with babies and fetuses’ souls,
It’d be hard to think or take leisurely strolls;
Jesus said Heaven’s way too crowded and loud,
With no one but the babies and that Westboro crowd.
I suppose that’s how come I woke up dead in Hell.
I walked scared and alone down the halls made of fire
Into corridors and rooms decked with decadence and ire.
I regretted at first things that I’d done in my life,
That had led me to boundless, perpetual strife,
As I walked past the rapists and killers and thugs,
All the monsters and pagans and users of drugs.
I saw Jews and the Muslims and corrupt politicians,
Lawyers and athletes and a few statisticians.
When I entered the hall filled with tables alight,
I bestowed on myself the most fleeting of frights:
An old hillbilly farmer and a queer-looking man
Eating lunch with a black and the whole Ku Klux Klan.
Democrats with Republicans, Russians and Nazis,
All the actors and artists with the mad paparazzi,
Prostitutes and porn stars and school teachers too,
Eating deep-fried, grease-dripping meals of fast-food.
If these enemies of old could combine thus anew,
Then what strange coexistence could the Heavens accrue?
I was pondering this notion when I swiftly was struck
By an image divulging the most awesome luck:Hell had been home from beginnings of time
To the swindlers and liars and masters of crime,
But it also held men with immense expertise,
Like the doctors, thinkers, firemen, police.
Scientists and philosophers of the highest regard
Were out courting fine women in Hell’s flaming backyard,
And the bubbling jacuzzi was overflowing with kids,
Who had sinned young, apparently, as all the rest did.
In the light of all this, you must conceive my surprise
When I turned to see Jesus right in front of my eyes.
He explained to me, though, why he frequents this site,
And I suppose it makes sense, thinking back with hindsight:
Brimming over with babies and fetuses’ souls,
It’d be hard to think or take leisurely strolls;
Jesus said Heaven’s way too crowded and loud,
With no one but the babies and that Westboro crowd.
