As a citizen of the seventh circle of Dante's inferno,
I was no stranger to burning at the stake.
I was no stranger to burning at the stake.
Boiling blood burst inside my veins,
volcanic waters washed away my sins
and made me whole again.
Weekends were spent relaxing
on a bed of hot coals that charred my flesh,
as the air filled with the sickening stench of a soul condemned.
Overcooked, my tenderized skin slid off
volcanic waters washed away my sins
and made me whole again.
Weekends were spent relaxing
on a bed of hot coals that charred my flesh,
as the air filled with the sickening stench of a soul condemned.
Overcooked, my tenderized skin slid off
my bones and I let out a whimper.
Before I could walk, I knew I was headed straight for Hell,
so I turned up the heat in my bath
until my body was blemished and blistered.
Whenever my teeth chattered from the cold,
I doused myself in kerosene then
Before I could walk, I knew I was headed straight for Hell,
so I turned up the heat in my bath
until my body was blemished and blistered.
Whenever my teeth chattered from the cold,
I doused myself in kerosene then
struck a match and sautéed my soul.
Self-immolating here among my fallen peers
was preferable to the pain I felt over the years.
The flames begin to falter, reducing me to ash;
Self-immolating here among my fallen peers
was preferable to the pain I felt over the years.
The flames begin to falter, reducing me to ash;
a day's work is over, so I rest my heavy head.
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