The Devil's Song

Cigars are evil
You won't miss 'em
We'll find ways to simulate that smell
What a sorry fella
Rolled up and smoked like a panatela
Here on Level 1
Of Robot Hell

Gambling's wrong and so is cheating
So is forging phony I.O.U.s
Let's let Lady Luck decide
What type of torture's justified
I'm pit boss here on Level 2

(Oooh, deep fried robot.)

Just tell me why

Please read this 55-page warrant

There must be robots worse than I

We checked around, there really aren't

Then please let me explain
My crimes were merely boyish pranks

You stole from boyscouts, nuns and banks

Aw, don't blame me, blame my upbrining

Please stop sinning while I'm singing

Selling bootleg tapes is wrong
Musicians need that income to survive

[Beastie Boys]
Hey, Bender gonna make some noise
With the hard drive scratched by the Beastie Boys
That's watcha watcha watcha get on Level 5

I don't feel well

It's up to us to rescue him

Maybe he likes it here in hell

It's us who tempted him to sin

Maybe he's back at the motel

C'mon, Fry, don't be scared
I'm sure at least one of us will be spared
So just sit back, enjoy the ride

My ass has blisters from the slide

Fencing diamonds, fixing cockfights
Publishing indecent magazines

You'll pay for every crime
Knee-deep in electric slim
You'll suffer 'till the end of time
Enduring tortures, most of which rhyme
Trapped forever, here in Robot Hell!

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