Some of them stood there talking bad
about me as the service went on.
They had nothing to say good about me,
they talked about the things I did wrong.

Some rushed the preacher to hurry up to
get this thing over with.
Instead of putting a rose on top of me
some could only conjure up spit.

Heaven they could only wish for me as the
choir sadly sang along.
Most of them wouldn't dare to wish me to
hell without clapping to a sad song.

Maybe the things they're saying about me
was the case I made for my own self.
Maybe most of them cried so many tears
when I was alive now they have none left.

They laughed and made jokes about my
mom because she broke down and cried.
Mostly all of them showed up at my funeral
to make sure that I had died.