As your casket closes listen to the living weep
Their tears are such cold comfort when they bury you so deep
You think they cry for you; that they came to pay respects?
The living only weep because they know that they are next
Sobbing in their mourning clothes, a most impressive act
Rosaries and prayer to keep their fantasies intact
The parson mumbles fairy tales of heaven and of hell
But six feet down in potter