“funeral” by andrea ball
no where to go to rest your head, no ones lying in your bed I was pickin up the slack I’m the only one whose got your back

pull up your boots put on your vest, rollin in your sundays best strapped all your guns to your chest with on last and final request
ten feet between us the crowd around in awe of my bridal gown silence arests us final hour 10 pangs from the clock tower

oh oh oh

I hit the ground dropped my gun dust went flying and I’m starin in to the sun, gasps from this small town everyone, gathered round

oh oh oh

If you really were a man you’d say so but you just whiped out all your guns and now your layin low, i’m tired of the scenery and you are tired of loving me

so this is how it ends, look how were dressed now there’s a heart shaped wound in my chest
oh oh oh this is a funeral, put me underground isn’t it beautiful orange sky hitting the dust, goodbye, goodluck