To cheat death,
I turned up at my own
funeral
With a smile in my
hand,
Presents for all the
mourners,
And singing the 'Funeral
March' in 5/4 time
To a drum 'n' bass
accompaniment.
My fanbase was a little shocked, sure:
Eaten up with paradox
and stuff.
Thinking, “Did I
cancel his milk?”
“Oh God! I spent what
was left in his wallet!”
“I took his wife in
her best place.”
“I gobbled up his
leftovers
And sent his dog to the
meat farm.”
The best man mourned my
death with scripted words.
He is a bit of a cunt,
you know:
More multi-faced
than two-faced.
… But before I
appeared
I watched for a while from behind the rood screen
To see who wasn't
crying enough... or at all...
And who was eating
crisps in headphones.
I counted the numbers.
Compared and contrasted
To see which fuckers
weren't there.
And then I appeared –
in all my magnificent glory!
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