| Oh I can see them now
|
| Clutching a hankerchief
|
| And blowing me a kiss
|
| Discreetly asking how
|
| How came he died so young
|
| Or was he very old
|
| Is the body still warm
|
| Or is it already cold
|
| All doors are open wide
|
| They grope around inside
|
| At my desk my drawers my trunk
|
| There’s nothing left to hide
|
| Some love letters are there
|
| And an old photograph
|
| They’ve laid my poor soul bare
|
| And now all they do is laugh
|
| Oh I can see them all
|
| So formal and so stiff
|
| Like a sergeant at arms
|
| At a policeman’s ball
|
| And everybody’s pushing
|
| To be the first in line
|
| Their hearts upon their sleeves
|
| Like a ten cent valentine
|
| The old women are there
|
| Too old to give a damn
|
| They’ve brought along the kids
|
| Who don’t know who I am
|
| They’re thinking about the price of my funeral bouquet
|
| What they’re thinking isn’t nice
|
| For now they’ll have to pay
|
| Oh I see all of you
|
| All of my phoney friends
|
| Who can’t wait for it ends
|
| Who can’t wait till it’s through
|
| Oh I see all of you
|
| You’ve been laughing all these years
|
| Now all that you have left
|
| Are a few crocodile tears
|
| Ah you don’t even know
|
| That you’re entering your hell
|
| As you leave my cemetary
|
| You think you’re doing well
|
| With that one who’s at your side
|
| You’re as proud as you can be
|
| Ah she’s going to make you cry
|
| But not the way you cried for me
|
| Oh I can see me now
|
| So cold and so alone
|
| As the flowers slowly die
|
| In my field of little bones
|
| Oh I can see me now
|
| I can see me at the end
|
| Of this voyage that I/m on
|
| Without a love without a friend
|
| Now all this that I see
|
| Is not what I deserve
|
| They really have a nerve
|
| To say these things to me
|
| No girls just bread and water
|
| And your money you must save
|
| For there’ll be nothing left for us
|
| When you’re dead and in your grave |