I can see heaven thrown open.
And the son of man standing at the right hand of God.
Hope and open means hopen.
Out of tragedy comes hope’s fleeting nod.

I lay awake disappointed in what I had achieved.
And then I thought, why worry, soon all this will be at an end.
Why worry, the soul has different wants it wants received.
It’s not what the body wants that we must tend.

So why not look after what will last.
The soul will, the body won’t.
Perhaps we should stick to our last.
Certainly you will always be unhappy if you don’t.

So what will let the soul rise to life eternal like a dove.
It is love.