I know that we’re not promised, but if I had my way
this is the path I’d take on my final day.
There’d be a long and winding road, warm breeze in the air.
On each side in full bloom, a line of Bradford pear.
 
On the left is Grandma’s house; that would be a sign.
The smell of homemade bread, clothes drying on the line.
Her yard is filled with flowers, a smile on her face.
I’d know without a doubt that this was the place.
 
If Heaven had a driveway, this is what it’d be:
lined with people and memories as far as I could see.
Pastors, friends and family who always prayed for me.
Smiles, laughs and tears of joy since the day that I was three.
 
I may not see the band, but music will be heard
from a choir of angels rather than a bird.
There’d be no signs of hatred; rather there’d be love
as I made my way to Heaven up above.
 
With each step I take I’m farther from the ground.
Loved ones who’ve gone before me standing all around.
Up ahead on the right I’d see those pearly gates.
The Father waiting for me saying, “Welcome, Danny Yates.”