The skies in hell run crimson red, and we lament the wounded soul.

well never know the tragedy that was done Or for whom the bell did really toll. Its molten lava on which he travels. Another day lost, another days sensibilities fed. he could have asked for forgiveness, But its illusion with which his mind was fed. The skies in hell run blood red and woe he sings a sorrowful wale. Hes just a man full of hatred His life is just a sad, sad tale. The acrid smoke fills his lungs And Fire rains down from above, If only he could speak to God and ask him for his love. The devil stands before him And the river of fire is sorrow bound. We know in our hearts, hell never stand on hallowed ground. The devil is going to run him through with his lance! But its not too late for you and for me, Place your heart with Jesus and God will forgive us and set us free. The skies in hell run crimson red, And we lament the wounded soul.