I wish that Heaven had visiting hours

so that I could linger outside of them until I got kicked out, knowing that you and your "go ahead and break some rules" attitude would get a kick out of it.

I wish that Heaven had visiting hours

so that I could say something to make you laugh and see you jovially punch your thigh — three times for good measure — in authentic delight.

I wish that Heaven had visiting hours

and I could spend mine telling you all about your grandchildren, how much they would have loved to know you and how proud you should be of them.

I wish that Heaven had visiting hours

and we could spend ours doing all the things we never had a chance to do and saying all the things we never took the time to say.

I wish that Heaven had visiting hours,

but it doesn't.

And, I guess, maybe that's a good thing,

'cause if it did,

I'd never wanna leave you.