It was the first get-together
After you were dead.
I sat there in my long skirt
with my tennis shoes
And wondered about you.

I stared outside,
the smoke from the fire made it seem like it was hot outside,
It's November 27th
It looked hot outside.

Were you in the trees,
Or the grass,
Were you the heat,
Were you just ash?

Could you read my mind?
Are you fine?
Is God real,
Is heaven divine?

Or is hell hot,
And the Devil cold.
Does he like being called Lucifer?
You'd think I'd know.

Smoking kills,
We blew you're ashes away.