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Cigars are evil, you won't miss them
We'll find ways to simulate that smell
What a sorry fella'
Rolled up and smoked like a panatela
Here on level one of Robot Hell
Gambling's wrong and so is cheating
So is forging phoney I.O.U.s
Let's let Lady Luck decide
What type of torture's justified
I'm pit boss here on level two
Mmmm--deep fried robot
Just tell me why
Please read this fifty-five 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 boy scouts, nuns and banks
Don't blame me, blame my upbringing!
Please stop sinning while I'm singing!
Selling bootleg tapes is wrong
Musicians need that income to survive
Hey Bender gonna make some noise
With the harddrive scratched by the Beastie Boys
That's whatcha-whatcha-whatcha get on level five
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
Come on, 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 slime
You'll suffer 'till the end of time
Enduring tortures, most of which rhyme
Trapped forever here in Robot Hell
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