Ah, My Funeral!
Ah, what a glorious day would be my funeral
Sad and glorious, morbid and wonderful
All attention on me,
People thinking of my life, my death, and all the things I did and had yet to do
Whether I come tomorrow, 10 years, or 50 years from now
I will be sorrowfully missed; I wonder who will speak at it
My family? Anyone still alive? If it was tomorrow, would my brother fly back from California? Most likely, I mean we are brothers
Who would speak at it? My teachers? My friends?
Oh how glorious if my friends were to sing songs at my funeral!
Then there would be me
I’d be there, probably in a very nice suit, devoid of life, most of my organs, my Hat either on top of my head or on my chest, make no mistake; it will be buried with me
My god, think of all the people crying, thinking “I can’t believe he’s gone! Why did it have to be Michael David Nicodemus Sganarelle Ierardi?! It hardly seems fair!”
Why, oh why does this prospect seem so delightful!?
Do not get me wrong, I do not want to deal my family and friends the terrible blow of no longer being in their lives, and I do not want my mother to build a shrine to me in our house
And as much as I would delight in having a building or a statue dedicated to me, I would much rather be there to enjoy it!
Ah well, perhaps my funeral can wait,
I’d prefer to have a dinner in my honor
So, never mind, and forget I said anything
But just remember how ever vain I may be, I feel I will enjoy my life for a while yet
And you thought you could get rid of me that quickly!
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Hear my words, may they move you in whatever direction your soul sees fit
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