In my mind's eye, I'm seeing it as being
‘hectic to say the least, so.
With any luck I should be able to slide through
in all that chaos going on.
Face it. Odds are pretty good God's gonna be
calling in some part-timers that day
maybe retired and wannabe Saints to help in
filling out paperwork, characterize souls,
listen to last-ditch pleas,
and maybe just maybe
the way I'm figuring it.
Like that Pink Floyd concert Jersey 1975
I should just be able to walk myself backstage
and party like I'm with the band.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem