Shell the shell

Shell the shell
Shell the shell and the pierced lay
And choose the intact of pure clay
As a man was made of a firmed dust,
He will be captured at a certain day
And on tomb would someone ask!
Aren't you who choosing this way?
You are now at your perfect place
And none human sees your face
And here to be a guest for a while
Then either hell or paradise
If you believed on God,
you may not be taken
And if not those scorpions eat your fingers
And may be whipped more than once
Unless God forgives and you are excused
Those elements of an ancient time,
There still wait as long as being attendants
But the unfortunate one who dislikes people
And will account on his aggressive notions
And none will be out of judgment
All will come on following rows
Submissively crane their necks
To answer what was written on books

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Shell the shell