Everything has a beginning,
you and I.
We're only a breath in the grand scheme of things,
and who one earth really knows where we go from here
when the worms inherit our flesh.
It's a horrible feeling to imagine, a lake of fire could be
where you're bound to, for the moronic way you lived,
to be with all the other morons
from the very first moron of the human race,
there moaning, gnashing their teeth.
Imagine when you crossover
a winged creature shining like a star
will be there to greet you
to hand you a one way ticket to hell,
where the fire is inexhaustible,
and every vile and evil being
ever existed since the origin of man
will be there screaming in torment,
imagine you might be rubbing elbows with them.
Maybe you're not a moron,
though you lived at times like one,
for the most part you been a goody two-shoes,
and for that you think you deserve to enter through
those big ass pearly gates when you leave this world,
where man from the cross will be there standing, smiling
all hippie-like, to show you your mansion he promised
for being one of his sheep.
Why won't it be a tipi,
or a shack like the shack you grew-up in,
who's to know if the mansion
isn't just an adobe hut?
Maybe we'll just end-up little lights.
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