Our Father, who art in heaven?
Tell me, for I'd really like to know.
How it will be when we get there,
Will there be memories of long ago,
Of all the things we did down here?
Tell me, will I get to see my children?
Will I see the man who took my family?
Who burnt my house with them inside,
Will I have to smile as you crown him,
'Cause he changed and set that life aside?
How will I stand there and not feel grim,
When I remember he took them away?
Lord my children, will they remember me?
Will I remember their little, innocent faces?
How will I explain why I couldn't save 'em?
Why I just stood there as they burnt to ashes?
How, when I'm soaked with guilt to the hem?
How will it be if I'll still have my memory?
How will a child dine with the rapist?
A mother with a kid she dumped in the gutter?
If we'll have memories of our lives on earth,
How will a victim feast with their murderer?
Perhaps twill be a clean slate when we berth.
Or perhaps all I am is a hopeless alarmist.