To live so freely in a land of heaven,
Yet dawdle like children,
Begs the question,
“What am I doing here?”

In an age of convenience yet unmatched,
We find ourselves the ruling class,
With no purpose to unwind,
We simply wish to pass the time.

Yet promised land for us, is this,
That bright and shining place of bliss,
Of clouds and angels to call home,
For some of us too well known.

So what difference does it make,
If we should pass then just to wake,
To see this life painted new,
Still stuck inside a gilded room?