Both my nan and my my mum are buried in a woodland burial ground, and I’d like the same. One of two sentimental songs I’d like played at my funeral is Oscar Brown Jr.'s “The Tree And Me”
Please carve no cold headstone for me
But rather plant a sapling tree,
And lay my ashes beneath its foot
So through my body it takes root.
Then as the seasons come and go
My monument and I will grow,
Wave bright green flags at summer’s sky
And harbor birds who happen by.
We’ll bronze each autumn, bloom with spring,
And wear the white coats winters bring.
The tree I marry with my dust
Will husband me with rooted thrusts,
Our seed will scatter far and wide
Across God’s fertile countryside,
And soon an arbor family
Will share our immortality.
Brave and farsighted stuff to be writing in the early 1960s.
i sucked a lot of cock to get where i am
i only want to be the best that i can
my mouth is stained i can’t complain
i keep on rinsing it again and again
It’s just one of those days where you don’t want to wake up
Everything is fucked, everybody sucks
You don’t really know why but you want to justify
Rippin’ someone’s head off
No human contact
And if you interact, your life is on contract
Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker
It’s just one of those days
Red lights flashing through the window in the rain
Can you hear the sirens moan?
White cane lying in a gutter in the lane
If you’re walking home alone
Don’t let it bring you down
So, you’ve been to school for a year or two
And you know you’ve seen it all
In daddy’s car, thinking you’ll go far
Back east your type don’t crawl
Playing ethnicky jazz to parade your snazz
On your five-grand stereo
Braggin’ that you know how the niggers feel cold
And the slums got so much soul
It’s time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear
Brace yourself, my dear
It’s a holiday in Cambodia
It’s tough, kid, but it’s life
It’s a holiday in Cambodia
Don’t forget to pack a wife
You’re a star-belly sneetch, you suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch, so you can get rich
But your boss gets richer off you
Well, you’ll work harder with a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers 'til you starve
Then your head is skewered on a stake
Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son
What you need, my son
Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
Need a holiday in Cambodia
Where you’ll kiss ass or crack
Pol Pot, Pol Pot
Pol Pot, Pol Pot
Pol Pot, Pol Pot
Pol Pot, Pol Pot
And it’s a holiday in Cambodia
Where you’ll do what you’re told
A holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul
Pol Pot
