* divine check-in *
The furtherest ranges feel the Sun last
Is this how it feels to be meek
So righteous you inherit the Earth
Yet a golden glow on shoulders sits
Warmed by fact first shall be last
And so gloriously last shall be first
Which truly is a crappy way
To run a queueing system
Especially when the non meek
Have already boarded
Are perched loftily in first class
Washing down caviar with champagne
While the meek are trying to find some change
To buy an overpriced sandwich
Drier than the Dead Sea Scrolls.
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