Hell may be temperate

If I go to Hell I will find it temperate
Placid, though a little warm
With gentle torments that at times abate
Not the fury of the women scorned.

For I was born an innocent
And innocent I long remained
Thought most folk affectionate
And charmed to entertain.

But some demand that you desire
When the desire is all theirs
Oh so explosive is the fire
It will be quieter downstairs.

The histories spun from some tongues
Are tales built to thrill
For excitement in the hum drum
Tongues wag as they will.

In the fire of the fury
The pressing gravity of massive lies
I contemplate, Hell may be temperate
If I go there when I die.