Fried Steak & Hot Metal

They say hell is not a place

But they liken it to fires

That constantly purge and burn

Kind of like our minds

And if I had a dime

For every human's dirty thought

I'd have a copper-nickel planet

With a thousand moons or more

And if this heart is my tabernacle

Could I withstand the day eternal

Or would I just become another

Abscess, maniacal

Cause like the space they claim is there

Around me all I see

Is a whole lot of nothing

Interspersed with dying breeds

And what they don't tell you

Either Or don't exist

We're all right as a button

And all wrong as an implanted chip

And just the other day

My lack of energy

Got a dead clock to start

And a bruise on my knee

So ship me where there is no one

South of the Antarctic cause

I want to see some sundog halos

And play with diamond dust

They say hell is not a place

But they liken it to fires

That constantly purge and burn

Kind of like these times