The Devil's Blues

Photo by James Lee on Unsplash

In the depths of hell, where flames do dance,
The Devil sits, with a troubled glance.
His business is down, his clients are few,
And he's starting to feel a bit blue.

"Oh, woe is me," he cries with despair,
"Why does no one come to hell anymore?"
He sips his martini, lost in thought,
As he ponders the conundrum he's caught.

Maybe it's the internet, he thinks,
With all its endless pleasures and kinks.
Or maybe it's the economy,
With people too busy to sin for free.

Whatever the reason, the Devil's dismayed,
His business is failing, and he's not getting paid.
He sighs and takes another sip,
Wishing for the good old days, when sin was hip.

But then he has an idea, a wicked grin,
A scheme to make hell popular again.
He'll open a nightclub, with cocktails and cheer,
And market it to millennials, far and near.

He'll call it "Hell's Bells," and it'll be the place to be,
With music so loud, it'll make your eardrums bleed.
He'll have DJs and dancing, and drinks to galore,
And he'll neve…