Heaven will be below the ground,
So that prayers will be close to your knees
Hell will be here on earth,
And eternity will be about my worship,
The skies will be a canvas of my image, so you remember who you look like,
Clasped hands greased with tears will have an open cheque
Cemeteries will be noisy with skeletal worship
Aged men and women will be children in my sight, we’d dine together
Children will have a special tree, a special me.
Coffin makers will have a special place below the soils, in my heaven.
The earth will be my crown
My trees will live forever,
You’d sign my dotted lines before you cut them down,
The mountains will never shed a tear for the loss of a rock,
The air will never report back to me polluted,
The birds will not cry over a missing one from the waddle
All bleached skin will find hell,
There’ll be a glue for thieves, to get stuck forever to what they steal,
Oppressors would be cursed to keep running away from nothing forever,
If wishes were birds, I’d soar!