Long, lingering laughter do I hear,
Mockingly making its mark in my ear.
Slowly, silently, yet swiftly to my feet,
I rise,

When shadows descend upon my final days
like so many unknown guests
it is not I who will decide my destination
for I do not

These lands that once were fair
are burned and scarred and torn
apart by an evil that has no lair,
born from the fires of spite

It is my belief that...
some day we will be faced
With a very large solid rock wall
A final judgment day
A boulder we can't

In every fresco of heaven,
All the angels are blond,
And all the entering souls
Have milky locks as well.
Will I make it into