A Funeral In Banbridge
A funeral in Banbridge
I took the train here, from London
Through Wales, beautiful day
I had a salad, I had a drink
Thoughts on the ferry
Where on earth are you taking me
Back to the family that you left behind
Now they brought you back in a casket
Once you are dead it's hard to object
I shared a room at the bed and breakfast
With your friend Rebecca, an actress from Brussels
Who at the time of your death was acting
In a monologue of yours you were also directing
The only one I know here is your old roommate Steve
I had a secret crush on him when you were in love with me
The sun shone in Hamburg, we must have been tiny
I felt so important in your company
But now the pastor at the gate
Hands out a pamphlet with your picture on the front page
And some hymns, "What a Friend We Have In Jesus"
All our sins and griefs to bear
Alice is screaming "This is all wrong."
He wanted to be buried in Berlin, that's his home
She roams around the parking lot, won't go in the church
I can see why you loved her, I can feel how she hurts
That is your father, surprisingly tall
He's the one who used to beat you up, your mother is small
She stares before her, silent and grey
She's burying her youngest today
The sermon is Methodist and dry like a desert
He mentions stray sheep and claims you liked fishing
I feel awfully Almodóvar when I stand up from the bench
and make my way to the piano
But I need to represent
My voice is strong and the song is about you
The air gets heavy, the pastor looks sweaty
But one of your old friends whispers "You saved it"
When I wiggle back between the benches again
Black limousines down to a lake
The cemetery, beautiful day
Birds are singing "Come back to life"
To hear us singing, to hear them cry
I wish you hadn't died without warning me about it
I wish you would have called I would have tricked you out of it
Your coffin in the ground, you're irreversibly gone
I'm talking to myself, I wanna go home
Back at the bnb, your father plays with your daughter
He's bought her many presents and clothes in bright colors
There's barking in the hallway, it's a red giant boxer
I get a ride to Belfast Central in a car full of dog's hair
I took the train here, from London
Through Wales, beautiful day
I had a salad, I had a drink
Thoughts on the ferry
Where on earth are you taking me
Back to the family that you left behind
Now they brought you back in a casket
Once you are dead it's hard to object
I shared a room at the bed and breakfast
With your friend Rebecca, an actress from Brussels
Who at the time of your death was acting
In a monologue of yours you were also directing
The only one I know here is your old roommate Steve
I had a secret crush on him when you were in love with me
The sun shone in Hamburg, we must have been tiny
I felt so important in your company
But now the pastor at the gate
Hands out a pamphlet with your picture on the front page
And some hymns, "What a Friend We Have In Jesus"
All our sins and griefs to bear
Alice is screaming "This is all wrong."
He wanted to be buried in Berlin, that's his home
She roams around the parking lot, won't go in the church
I can see why you loved her, I can feel how she hurts
That is your father, surprisingly tall
He's the one who used to beat you up, your mother is small
She stares before her, silent and grey
She's burying her youngest today
The sermon is Methodist and dry like a desert
He mentions stray sheep and claims you liked fishing
I feel awfully Almodóvar when I stand up from the bench
and make my way to the piano
But I need to represent
My voice is strong and the song is about you
The air gets heavy, the pastor looks sweaty
But one of your old friends whispers "You saved it"
When I wiggle back between the benches again
Black limousines down to a lake
The cemetery, beautiful day
Birds are singing "Come back to life"
To hear us singing, to hear them cry
I wish you hadn't died without warning me about it
I wish you would have called I would have tricked you out of it
Your coffin in the ground, you're irreversibly gone
I'm talking to myself, I wanna go home
Back at the bnb, your father plays with your daughter
He's bought her many presents and clothes in bright colors
There's barking in the hallway, it's a red giant boxer
I get a ride to Belfast Central in a car full of dog's hair
Credits
Writer(s): Frida Hyvonen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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