It's March and you're going to your 5th funeral of the year.
Am I next? Or is this some kind of sick joke?
The thought has me stressed, so much so-
I'm sitting in a dark room, around my neck is a rope.
I've lost all hope, this shit has me upset.
5th funeral of the year?
Well, I just took a 5th line of some coke.
(After a couple of bottles of beer, too....)
My mind keeps playing over each service attended,
More like a nervous convention
Every feeling within me surfaced, ascended
And when each service had ended,
a man I never knew would look me in the eyes and say to me:
"at this rate son, the devil will come for your soul eventually".
Splendid.
Last thing I needed to hear is some religious freak
talking about some ficticious creed,
I'm grieving idiot! Just let me be!
It's ridiculous enough I have to hear the bishop speak,
I went home that day by the way,
lighting a dirty like Christmas trres.
Laid in bed. Shut my eyes. Slowly went to sleep.
My mother was the first to go, her apartment caught fire
Next was y father, a convict-
who tried to escape but got caught in some barb wire.
My sister passed from heart failure and as things were getting worse,
my brother committed suicide because he couldn't get any work.
These events kept replaying in my head, it felt like a curse,
Every funeral they rode off in a hearse.
Now here I am once again, standing by another casket,
you just don't know how much it hurts.
I couldn't take it any longer, wasn't fit to survive,
all my loved ones were taken away, there was no longer a meaning in life.
Didn't think twice, I was certainly next to go,
didn't want to wait any more, so I hung from a rope.
Now I'm here watching my relatives as they cry and mourn....
but I see my body laying in peace,
I am no longer scorned.