As I lay dying,
I worry about what lies ahead.
Seconds later I awake with dread,
Standing in front of a white gate.

My knees tremble and my heart races, I think to myself:
Why, why, why have I come here?
For it was my greatest fear,
To stand in front of the gates of heaven.

I look away, I try to run, but I cannot escape.
I scream and yell:
Take me to hell!
But nothing seems to care.

Finally a voice calls for me to enter,
I throw myself on the ground and start to cry,
Surly something has gone awry,
To bring me to this holy gate.

All my life I’ve lived in fear of dying,
And being brought to this sacred place,
Which really does not suit my taste,
And scares me half to death.

My heart is pounding my legs are weak,
I cannot bring myself to speak,
As I realize I am not in heaven after all.