I walked down a long, tiled corridor.There were notices on the walls.WHITE TIES PLEASE. NO NIGGERS. PLAY THE GAME.DO NOT SPIT.
THIS WAS TO THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
I went down the long tiled corridorAnd at the end someone clattered lift gates.
I preferred to walk and went up the stairs.
I rapped on the office door and asked for God.The manager was bald and apologetic.The manager told me God was out.
I walked back down the stairs, down the corridor.There are offices it seems across the way.He may be in there.
PLEASE USE THE SUBWAY.
I used the subway. I am still walking.I have met many of my friends. Some of them are dead.The place is well-organised. The commissionairesAre civil, and put their harps asideWhen one speaks to them.
Once there were animals here; insects even;But they grew tired. They went out to play.The curiosity of men seems endless.
Even I am too curious to blow my brains out.I will go on walking although I know it is useless .-I heard the manager muttering in his sleep.
."If they find God the place will have to close.That is why I tell them God is only Out.Don't tell the boys God'll never be In.."