An angel perched upon my shoulder -
His hair askew, and his eyes a-smolder.
In a whisper, out of breath,
Turned his head and asked for a cigarette.

"Where are your wings, if you're an angel?"
I asked as I handed him a cancer-stick.
"Why do you assume me to be of God?"
This angel rebuttal-ed rather quick.
He lit his cancer-stick.

He sighed and carried on,
"I am not holy or of grace,
that's why I got sent to this ****** place."
"Earth?" I asked rather curious.

"Earth?", the angel snickered.
"Honey, believe me, I can tell,
that we are undeniably in Hell."
His words ran thick in my blood.
That angel began to smile.

It suddenly got really hot
and my skin began to boil.
And the last thing I remember
was that devil on my shoulder.