A Quota for Heaven

Where do all the good
The bad and the ugly go
When heaven gets full

Queues long a' winding, bending
But only a few places left
As spaces designate

Is it by default
That so many souls
Would be damned

Or was it all planned
From the very beginning
How fair is that on a balanced scale

So what happens
If the scale of preference
Changes tipping to the right

And more than less
Are in for a good run
Keeping a clean sheet

Would the quota
Set as numbers limit
Be reviewed, a clause some where

To accommodate t' born agains
Or are they damned
Regardless of what they do

Are we elemental
So that we loose in weight
The more good we do

To become light as a feather
Do we shrink into tinny grains
Of sand to all fit into heaven

Or stay as large
As a haunted ghost
With sins and anger so heavy