Funerals
One would think the dead were burying the living, not the living the dead,
The way we hold funerals ...
Bah! my heart sickens!
Please, when I die, know that I am very well able to care for myself,
And that the journey is mine, not yours:
Then take the refuse I left behind me
And quickly and quietly burn it up.
The way we hold funerals ...
Bah! my heart sickens!
Please, when I die, know that I am very well able to care for myself,
And that the journey is mine, not yours:
Then take the refuse I left behind me
And quickly and quietly burn it up.
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