Hold Me No Funeral

Oh , Mortician 

Please see me off proper
For I've not come prepared
Powder my brow, as it has been permanently torqued 
From so many unfinished affairs
I beg you, pry my mouth into a smile somehow 
Don't send me into eternity wearing this scowl
Put some color to my lips
For to cover the grey left by all my words of hatred
Help me to find peace, at least in my grave

Oh, Undertaker
Place me high on a hill somewhere visible
There wont be many that visit
But perhaps someone will come looking for it
I'm sure you'll find no forgiving flowers 
left by those who pass
And the ground will need no keeping 
As my soul doesn't permit the growing of grass
No, you need not worry what to write above my bones
It seems only fitting I lie forever beneath a blank tombstone

Oh, Pastor
Say no prayer for me
I fear God is more then aware Ill be arriving
If you must speak over the freshly buried
Let your words warm only the living
I'd dare not carry a recommendation
For which I'm so undeserving 
Set me no special psalms aside
The 23rd will do fine
Ye though the hour is late, much to late 
I wish to remember it when I stand outside Heavens gate