The good people, you can see them
They are the ones lining up by the pearly gates
Before they are even dead!
Banging with fists, anxious, often depressed.
The good people, trying to stay nice
Trying to be patient
As the devil's leeches suck their blood from their eyes.
The good people; aching inside
With the pain others inflict upon their gentle natures.
Used, abused, falsely accused.
The good people.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem