Redd's ~'with a little help from my friends'~vaping around the clock~chat~music~images and more
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Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
See 'em again 'til the Fourth of July
I knew a lady who came from Duluth
Bitten by a dog with a rabid tooth
She went to her grave just a little too soon
Flew away howling on the yellow moon
Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
See 'em again 'til the Fourth of July
People cry and people moan
Look for a dry place to call their home
Try to find some place to rest their bones
While the angels and the devils try to make 'em their own
Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
See 'em again 'till the Fourth of July
Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau
Some belong to strangers and some to folks you know
Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand
To beautify the foothills and shake the many hands
The nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You see a lot up there but don't be scared
Who needs action when you got words
When you've finished with the mop then you can stop
And look at what you've done
The plateau's clean, no dirt to be seen
And the work it was fun
There's nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You see a lot up there but don't be scared
Who needs action when you got words
Well the many hands began to scan around for the next plateau
Some said it was in Greenland and some say Mexico
Others decided it was nowhere except for where they stood
But those were all just guesses, wouldn't help you if they could
If I had to lose a mile
If I had to touch feelings
I would lose my soul
The way I do
I don't have to think
I only have to do it
The results are always perfect
And that's old news
Would you like to hear my voice
Sprinkled with emotion
Invented at your birth?
I can't see the end of me
My whole expanse I cannot see
I formulate infinity
Stored deep inside me
If I had to lose a mile
If I had to touch feelings
I would lose my soul
The way I do
I don't have to think
I only have to do it
The results are always perfect
And that's old news
Would you like to hear my voice
Sprinkled with emotion
Invented at your birth?
I can't see the end of me
My whole expanse I cannot see
[x2]
I formulate infinity
Stored deep inside me
Well ... sigh ... it's Sunday evening again 
Make the best of it 
Good night
Make the best of it Good night
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