Showdown in S--t City
Or
Five Hundred Meters for Five Hundred Souls

A skinsuit of scarlet, and a skinsuit of blue,
Lined up in Wisconsin on a cold night so true.
God on first outer, Satan on inner,
At stake were the souls of five hundred sinners.

At the old outdoor oval, a breeze from the west,
The eternal two athletes prepared for their best.
The Devil was awkward, aggresive and wild,
Yet awesome with strokes full of power, fire and bile.

And God, he was smooth - practiced and pretty,
Clearly the class of the two in S--t City.
But you'll never win races on form all alone,
And at sports the Devil's treachery's known.

Go to the Start, Ready....BANG,
For five hundred souls did eternity hang.
Five hundred souls, quietly seeing,
Sport decide fate, and their manner of being.

Devil did the hundred in nine-seven-nine,
nd God was only a half step behind.
As they made the first turn, and raced down the back,
od fell behind Satan's powerful hack.

But on the last curve, with the Devil ahead,
od found his top form - for the sake of the dead.
He hung to the blocks, and evened the race,
Performing the awesome, last inner of Grace!

So down the last stretch they fought stride for stride,
The Devil surprised to find God at his side,
A spirited sprint, and a lunge for the line,
The five hundred gasped and looked up at the times...

Thirty-five-ninety-nine, thirty-five-ninety eight,
Split second deciding eternity's fate.
Five hundred souls taken in the West Allis night,
By the first one to break that thin beam of light.

...God's still warming down at the Olympic Rink,
And the Devil's at Liquid's - havin' a drink.
The souls that were wagered, are the souls that were damned...
hen the Devil reached down and stopped the clock with his hand.