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Just another day on the way down to Hell
under a storm to deform all of Heaven
A display of all I've done wrong
The doom I consume like whiskey in a country song
Don't ask me to change if you won't do the same
We don't have to call God by the same name
I won't seek redemption under your Sun
And so my damnation will come
Just another night feelin' right in the smoke
Just another drop on the head of a saint
I'll soak in the sins to your chokes and chagrins
I'm not gonna tremble or faint
And if I don't pray in your certain way
don't insist I'm gonna burn
Don't ask me to break if I make mistakes
it's just the way I learned to learn
My damnation won't be your salvation
and so I am none too concerned
with towers and bells and fiery hells
and collections of what I have earned
You speak of these people as they are your own
You speak of these people as they're made of stone
You speak of the masses and their indignity
You speak of the crowds that bring you anxiety
You speak of the buildings that inevitably fall
You speak of the truths that lie undiscovered
You speak of the population out of control
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It's got a tune. I don't play any instruments, but sometimes I conjure vocal melodies for what I write. That's actually how this was first written. I was humming a simple tune, and then the words dropped out of the sky. I'm pretty proud of that. Direct improvisation.
The pentameter makes more sense in the context of song, although I don't find it clumsy to recite either.
