Oh when I die
Just flank me on both sides
Bottle of whiskey in one hand,
Pack of smokes in the other
But oh, don't cry for me
When I'm gone
I know it won't be so great
And when there's only four people there
All trying to remember my name
Oh no, don't cry for me
When I die
There won't be much to say
Just one less bastard in the world
I won't leave much love behind
But no, don't cry for me
When I'm gone
Don't think about the good times
Think of the bad ones
The ones that fill you with rage
But oh, don't cry for me
When I die
There won't be much left
But burn it all
Hang me by the highway
Oh no, don't cry for me
When I'm gone
And the preacher can't think of anything to say
Tell him I'm in hell,
Playing poker with Hitler
But oh, don't cry for me
Don't cry for me
I'll be crying for you
2 comments:
Sounds a little personal to me.
I like it.
Well, I don't know what you tell you about your earth shattering idea. But often I find that those 2AM ideas are never as clear the next day as they were before. Sometimes I think you have to be in just the right state to understand what it is your mind was hovering around.
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