At Heaven's Outskirts
I am at Heaven's Outskirts
Where drums mellow beats like thunder
Where guitars sings like chirping birds
Here, at stage - everyone is a DJ
Here, you'll find no pop pijins like "sup Jay"
None-crazy a guy to be in skirts
Fun's always loud, and you'll find no murder
Here, faces are as colorful as the sun-birds
We make joy, deny coy and make praises all Day.
"God you are great!” on our tongue we say.
Where I am, I find no master, and no slave.
No steeps to stumble at, nor a hideout cave.
You neither need hiding,
B'cos there's nothing hiding
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