A slow and somber beat
Of a mournful sounding drum.
Some walk behind your hearse
With sullen faces looking glum.
There is a single ring of flowers
Masquerading as a wreath.
It lays upon your coffin
For your soul that lays beneath.
A matinee for the star
To bring the final curtain down.
They read an eulogy of fiction
As you're lowered in the ground.
They reminisce around you
While they fill the grave with dirt.
Forgiving all your blemishes
Even people that you've hurt.
You may have kept some secrets
And some promises that you made.
But all are now deemed worthless
Just a fraction of the price you paid.