His Ass in Hell
The day he finds his ass in Hell,
He won’t admit that he was wrong.
His weak excuses he will tell
Over again – and call them strong.
He’ll mouth his crap a whole age long—
But God will not respond at all
To that extended, tuneless song.
God’s love will have become the wall
Against which losers hurl a ball
That bounces back without a sound.
Our damned lad’s chances won’t be small:
They’ll be so absent they’ll astound
His unrelenting confidence.
But still he’ll make his vain defense.