Hungry are the damned.

Their eerie silence is punctuated

By the sound of stomach rumbuling.

Hungry are those who reside in Hell

Hungry for food and for men

A deep voice is heard for miles.

Annoyed are the damned

Because no one can ever remember their

Stinking, bloody keycard.

The doorbell always rings

During the good shows in Hell

‘Hey, who ordered pizza?’