Demon Spit

Unseen by all who live in the bright day,
Bellow in Hell we hear and do believe
The demons spit and yell as they decay.


For how are we to guess if they feel gay
Or joyous from the tortures they receive
Unseen by all who live in the bright day.


When men do die and fly their wintry stay
To rot in pits to deep to be conceived,
The demons spit and yell as they decay.


But demons are not made from the same clay
As we who prance about the crunching leaves
Unseen by all who live in the bright day.


How can the demons feel. A pang of dismay?
Regret for sins performed now to retrieve
The demons spit and yell as they decay.


Perhaps we give them far to much say
About the acts that we harshly reprieve.
Unseen by all who live in the bright day,
The demons spit and yell as they decay.