After You Die
Thomas Alan Waits, Kathleen Brennan
Like a tin can feeding
Like a skinned hand bleeding
Like a tramp choir crying
Like a camp fire dying
Like a big dog breeding
Like a pig hog feeding
Like a top hat tipping
Like a dropped rat skipping
Like a tin horn glowing
Like a gin storm blowing
Like a neck tie flapping
Like a rich guy clapping
Like a big fool crawling
Like a rig tool falling
Like a back door squeaking
Like a crack whore tweaking
What is it like?
What is it like after we die?
Like a string that's broken
Like a thing that's smoking
Like a blue flame burning
Like a new brain learning
Like more cold coffee
Like a poor old softie
Like a declining graveyard
Like a shining brave star
Like a child that's fainting
Like a wild ass painting
What is it like?
What is it like after we die?