Rates of Morbidity
[ or don'look at nothin'
at all. ]
I picture them picturing me in my
wit all that silky lining and silky
Of course, there'll be no silky,
shiny cas'kette (Cas'kettle?), yeah,
to put my lifeless , maked-up,
/ jesuschrist....too fuckin eX'pensive. /
I have to admit,
I'd like to have a shiny coffin to
my dead ass in, even if only 4-5
show up to the show. But no.
w'ill go straight to the old smoky
(t'give ye a taste'o hell before ye
just like my dead little girl.
just like me dead daddy'o.
I want some of me ashes dropped off the Brooklyn Bridge.
I want some of my ashes dropped off the Golden Gate Bridge.
they can go down the nearest toilet....I mean, it ain't gonna
make any difference, y'know?
Ah, the joys of the dead. Either be sealed in a box, or shoved into
a fckn flaming oven.
At my age, and wit me chronic, fatal dis'ease, that's'bout all there
is to look forward to.