And golden streets--I'm in the wrong part of town;
Even the gates I came through gleam like pearls.
Where do the homeless go, the sick lie down?
A new hospital should rise on this spot,
But these great mansions seem to go on for miles.
If I get funding, surely we'll find a site.
Where is that girl who keeps my business files?
Oh, dear, I must have died! I think I know
This place; it's like the dream before my birth.
But I can't stay here--people are cold and ill,
Starving--I must get back to the streets of earth!
"But this is heaven, ma'am," they tell me now,
And, "No one's sick or homeless in this place."
I'm sure they're right--the natives ought to know--
But I think I'll build a shelter, just in case.