Lake of Fire

Conheço um lago de fogo, onde uma voz rouca me chama e se dissipa na pele. Num ténue calor de areia quente. Morno. Relaxante. Ali ficando sem pressas, dançando em relflexos mágicos. Letais ao olhar. É um lago estranho. De anjos e demónios, onde vou dar, não sei se perdido se descoberto. É um lago misteriosamente interessante. É um lago difícil. É um lago de fogo.

Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
see them again 'till the Fourth of July

I knew a lady who came from Duluth
Bitten by a dog with a rabid tooth
She went to her grave just a little too soon
flew away howling at the yellow moon

Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
see them again 'till the Fourth of July

People cry and people moan
Look for a dry place to call their home
Try to find some place to rest their bones
While the angels and the devils try to make 'em their own

Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
see them again 'till the Fourth of July

Nirvana, Lake of Fire, originally by The Meat Puppets