[Verse 1]
Strolled up to the pearly gates with a bottle in my hand
Said "I'm here for my reservation, name's on the list, ol' man"
He didn't even look up from his book, just shook his silver head
Said "Son, the only list you're on is the one beneath my bed"
[Chorus]
St. Peter blocked my number
Said my jokes don't scan
Said "God's got ears like a mother's heart
And you ain't that kinda man"
So I asked him for a sign, a second chance, a simple "maybe"
He just smiled and shut the gate
And blocked me on his baby
[Verse 2]
Told him I knew a few good songs, could play 'em on the sly
He said "We got a harp ensemble, son, and you don't fit the vibe"
Told him I could sweep the floors, could guard the holy well
He said "The last guy we let in from your town tried to sell us fake Michael"
[Chorus]
St. Peter blocked my number
Said my jokes don't scan
Said "God's got ears like a mother's heart
And you ain't that kinda man"
So I asked him for a sign, a second chance, a simple "maybe"
He just smiled and shut the gate
And blocked me on his baby
[Bridge — spoken, quieter, almost wondering]
You ever get rejected so polite it hurts?
He didn't yell. Didn't scream. Didn't even raise his eyebrows.
Just... beat ...click.
Blocked.
Like I was a telemarketer.
Like I was nothing.
[small laugh]
...I almost respected it.
[Instrumental break — just bass and a lonely trumpet. Like a funeral parade that forgot the corpse.]
[Outro — sung, shrugging]
So I turned around and walked back down the cloud
Didn't wave, didn't cry, didn't scream too loud
St. Peter blocked my number
But you know what? That's fine
I didn't wanna be anywhere
That couldn't take a punchline
[last chord. Then, muttered:]
...prude.
[a single bass note. Then footsteps on gravel. Walking down.]
AsheTheHyena
