Driving To Heaven

I drove to heaven, it was just a one-way trip,
we went past Ogden Nash drinking a mint julep,
there were no virgins or grapes hanging from trees,
rivers of wine, only the sad figure of Putin on his knees.

Being whipped by Archangel Gabriel as hard as able,
before being shifted to hell, where forever liable;
others in the the hellbound queue, another road,
never to be forgiven, carrying their punitive load.

So it truly existed, but only if you really believe,
prepared that your perception is not as you perceive;
those left behind, in limbo, would be forever restless,
forced to admit they knew nothing and were clueless.

I pulled up a parking lot and singing 'My kind of town,'
heaven is, there was Earth but I wasn't going back down.