the gates

great poetry

     
        wheres the hallo over your head there is none
        wheres the angel by your bed they've not come
        cause you he think youre better than me
        and through gods eyes you think you see
        lost in your virtue stuck in your grace
        the look of lost and pain in your face
        god works with who he wants at his own pace
        and the way to him is not a race
        and to find him that is my fate
        hope to see you at the gates