So You're Going to Heaven, Fred Phelps?

So you're going to heaven, Fred Phelps
On your elevator of hate
It's too bad the up button is broke
And the cables are worn

If God wants nary a fag in his home
Then Peter must test at the gate
Wave a picture of a hard-bodied stud
And damn those bodies who get hard

So you're going to heaven, Fred Phelps
On the bones of Shepherd's body
Twisted and beaten by your
Ass-ignorant America

Admitted to the willing press
Never liked a woman, so you turned to man
Maybe in the track team locker rooms
You found your salvation

Or did you brush a little too close
And a jock called you on it
Calling you a fucking faggot
Was that it?

Is it why you turned to boxing?
To beat off the temptation
While still breathing in
The partial nudity?

So you're going to heaven, Fred Phelps
Well sign the pledge with wrath
And signal in your blood
The word of your sworn enemy

And when you die in a few years
Will the masses picket your grave?
Or will good people just let
The ugly insect rot?

The sooner the better
If I could kill with words
I'd refrain
But fuck you all the same