of montreal
scenes from my funeral
It's funny that when I die my friends will get to see What kind of suit my mom buries me in I hope it's dark blue with blue stars When the priest leans over me And starts talking about Jesus And the state of my soul, please remind him We're having a funeral here, not a play  Pick me up, four for each side of the box March me to the shiny black car Long winding procession of cars Mostly of silver and black Gentlemen in black suits and the ladies in black Dresses and gloves Now carry me out to the grave The spot where I've paid to be buried And just before whoever gives the command To send my body down I'll jump out of the box and tap dance From head to bald head I'll swoop and I'll spin, I'll rise and dive down again I'll laugh like a baby, so happy and free And no one will see, no one will notice me