No one ached when I died
On a dusty August morning in the swelter of the sun
They buried me in blue jeans and my coffin had a crack
A chip along the edges matched the blood along the tracks
Family preceded me; there was no one left to cry
But a single solemn woman, hidden in the back
Shed a single shiny tear; and only one to be exact
No waterfalls or bowing heads, no crowd to see me go
No burning candle vigils and no midnight serenade
I marched the gates of life and death, alone but unafraid
No one ached when I died
No questions or suspicions from the folks around the town
There were no weeping faces or a grand old death parade
Just a digger and a preacher; lowered slowly in the grave
Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 8:52 AM UTC
No one ached when I died
On a dusty August morning in the swelter of the sun
They buried me in blue jeans and my coffin had a crack
A chip along the edges matched the blood along the tracks
Family preceded me; there was no one left to cry
But a single solemn woman, hidden in the back
Shed a single shiny tear; and only one to be exact
No waterfalls or bowing heads, no crowd to see me go
No burning candle vigils and no midnight serenade
I marched the gates of life and death, alone but unafraid
No one ached when I died
No questions or suspicions from the folks around the town
There were no weeping faces or a grand old death parade
Just a digger and a preacher; lowered slowly in the grave