My mother would sing me a song, a tune that I keep in a sacred place
Because I know that my life won't be long.
It tells of the place where you go, when your time here on earth is through
A beautiful place we call heaven, is it true?
Please God I pray that it's true...
Green hills were all you could see, but now it's soot and steel and brick.
So it looks more like hell to me...
And each day brings more and more suffering, and each night is silence and fear.
And I wake to the sound of your voice... But you're not here
Why aren't you here?
Please... Let me die before I wake..
So the lord my soul, can take, then maybe I'll finally find you.
'Midst the beauty of paradise and you'll sing not of dying...
...But living.. Wouldn't that be nice?
Wouldn't that be nice?