What You Choose You Will Have

 We are all going somewhere, one of these days.

But the bags that we pack, will be filled with our ways.

The colour of our skin and the houses that we own.

Would all gather dust, like the sand upon bone.

We won't gather as a family, with father, mother, child.

And we won't speak for others, not even for a while.

When we all get together, I pray that day will be.

A reunion up in heaven, where the blind will even see.

There'll be no more pain and sorrow.

No baskets filled to borrow.

No hearts to be broken and no fame or status quo.

Where your name is written down, that's where you will be forever.

Just across the river or in hell for good measure.

The clothes on our back and the shoes op

on our feet.

The food on the table and the fields filled with wheat.

The houses made of sand and the words we left unsaid.

Would matter not tomorrow, when we hear if we were wed.

The final day is coming, when we will all be gone.

And I pray that the Lord, will embrace all those He won.

What you choose, you will have.

Either heaven or in hell.

But as for me and my house, it will always be well.