Who do you think would even show up at the funeral day? Staring six feet down, that's my hallowed ground Just a bed of dirt and bones, that's where I'll lay Words carved like a poem into some cheap headstone
And who's so lucky But to have a few dear souls tried and true? And could you even hear the brassy sounds Of the last bells crying out?
I'm just a dark horse With a pale heart On a cold night For a long walk Just a dead flame Fuck this old game Lay me down now I've got a new name
Would anyone show up with a few last words to say? And toast my final hour, at least piss on my grave? Maybe there's a sad song that a lonely trumpet could play The tune could flutter on into an evening sun
And who's so lucky But to have a few dear souls tried and true? There won't be a chorus from a crowd Just the crickets chirping loud...
