If I could drink my tears, I’d no longer be thirsty.
If they would quench the fire, I’d no longer be burning.
If they would wash away the worms, I’d no longer be hurting.

But here I lie, an eternity to weep.
My hope was when I die, I’d have an eternity to sleep.
No, I find myself wide awake, there’s no rest for the wicked,
Don’t hope for my sake, I’m already being afflicted.

Demons taunt me, an angel shakes his head,
From here I can see my loved ones, in a place I’d rather be instead.
They are enjoying forever glory, an unending happy story,
In this place I count my mistakes, an unending inventory.

If my regrets were a staircase, I’d crawl right out of this fiery place,
But how could I, in my wickedness, look at Perfection in the face?
It’s so obvious that it’s not just the evil I’ve done that’s sentenced me to my cell,
But the good deeds done with a haughty heart, that’s sent me here as well.
Because my goodness could never out weight my wicked thoughts,
And filthy rags don’t pay the cost.

I’ve got only one thing to ask you, one question on my mind,
To the rest of you out there, those hearing my painful rhyme,
If you now know my story, my sad lament,
And you realize that you are not perfect, for Heaven you are unfit,
If this place is real, a real of fire and judgment.
Then what the hell are you going to do about it?