Since my soul cannot be saved,
I guess ill go in to my grave,
And wake up in a world of flame,
And wake up in world of flame.

Fire and brimstone, thistle and thorn,
I never believed since the day I was [bad word] sit beside me under any old tree,
And under any tree ask me any old thing.
So flesh and flesh and bone and bone,
That is all I'll ever know ...
Fire and brimstone, thistle and thorn,
I never believed since the day I was born.

Suffering is [bad word] thread,
Woven in veins of roman red.
Say: "Pain no more. Pain no more!"