The corridor is white and heaven lit
Angels walked down toward earth in it
They were questioned by a neighbor
The angels said they were bored and wanted to labor
They said back up there it's the old cool routine
With a million miles of peace and bliss
And every blessing from the source itself
They want diversity and variety of flavors
Then they meet the multiple of human faces
angel envy in their dullened eyes
Second thoughts brace their angel minds
But the curly gates have shut and Saint Peter smirks
He smirks an "I told you so" smirk
Reflecting a new sense of authority
And a grin that said "declined"
Haughty angels tested him to no avail
And were sent back to earth
courtesy of the holy rail
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