Licking the devil

If hell was real and I had to go,

What would I do… Oh yes, I know.

I would find the boss, the red head honcho,

The big horned one with the human-skin poncho.

I’d say ‘Hiya Beelzebubba, how’s it hanging?

That canine necklace of yours is pretty banging!’

This might make him a tiny bit perturbed,

So that I could execute my plan, completely uncurbed.

I would sprint close and lick his red arm,

Taste the strawberry goodness, from Satan’s own farm.

Mmm, the devil’s strawberry-flavored skin,

I wouldn’t care about the trouble I’d be in.

What’cha mean how I know? Use your brain!

He wouldn’t be red if he was filled with grain.

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