I'll be waiting to meet with you beyond the dreamland
Where space is open-ended, and time runs at a snail's pace.
If you screw up, I'm gonna lend you a helping hand:
In afterlife it is necessary that you find your place.
If you don't fail to exist, there will be no flashbacks:
The past can't haunt you if you're open to transition.
Free from mundane habits, we'll be happy to the max,
Capturing the ulterior highlight of a divine premonition.
We ain't no prisoners any longer, our souls are pure.
The Savior has just X'd us out from his drop-dead list.
Before we take a flight, we are told to take the cure:
We should have eagle-eyes to tab the sinners in the mist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem