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