Seven craps eleven there’s no gambling in heaven
And it would seem to me to be the sin that there’s no Bourbon Jack or Gin
Eternity is far to long the reason why I wrote this song

Hell, it sounds pretty good to me
Hell, it sounds pretty good to me
Hell, it sounds pretty good to me

The Father Son and Holy Ghost pornography is what I miss most
I’m high and dry with Saint Peter I ain’t got no friends here either
Explain to me this place called heaven with no room for wayward women

{Chorus}

If I could live my life again I’d live my life a life of sin
Satan sports a three piece suit indulge in the house of ill repute
And it’s a pity there’s no one to tell that I’d rather be in . . .

{Chorus}