Funeral Director

[Bjam]

Funeral Director
by Raw Strength & Courage

Your eyes widen, set on the prize
Their soul is broken, there's no keeping him alive

You look to dark, checking the shadows
You stalk your prey, you've taken him this far

Twisted life so crazy,
Slash into his chest,
She's prepared the casket,
The mad and crazy funeral director

You reach your hand back, poised in attack
In for the kill, there is no looking back

You push in deep, searing through the skin
Eyes of fear, the horror takes him from within

Twisted life so crazy,
Slash into his chest,
She's prepared the casket,
The mad and crazy funeral director

Then the blood flows
His head hangs low
He doubles over, falls to the ground,
Then the fear grows,
As he sees his foe
Now he'll pay for screwing with her

Twisted life so crazy,
Slash into his chest,
She's prepared the casket,
The mad and crazy funeral director

[Calfborg]

Funeral Director by Pumpkin Buzzard

I'm bleeding yolk
I smell like dirt
I got nothing to lose
And I feel the burn
Devices eat your life
Yum, yum, yum
Gotta procedure tonight
Sewer headlight

Oh, oh - I got a funeral to run
Oh, oh - I am the funeral director
What is the mission
Funeral director

I'm sinking fast
The button's pressed
I got nothing to lose
I got no regrets
Tomorrow
Get a grip
Shrinkwrap uranium
Mr. Director

Oh, oh - I got a funeral to run
Oh, oh - I am the funeral director

If you need a funeral
You know who to call
Funeral director
I am the funeral

[j$]

Funeral Director by Johnny in the Corner

Music by Jack Shite words by J$

As soon as the black hearse arrives
I use my skills, my art, and strive
To make my clients, now they've died,
much cooler than while they were live
Hand your loved ones in to me
for private view, I hope you'll see
That they were always meant to be
A part of human topiary

Hit the roof, call me uncouth
Grandma dressed up like Babe Ruth

Griefing relatives accuse me
Say I'm tastless, ghoulish, gory
am I bad, must you abhore me
drenching dead in mourning glory

You can have them on their backs - or weilding shotgun, ten inch stacks,
Or playing twister. Better yet, dressed as Marie Anne Antoinette!
They're mannequins, let's make them shine -swigging from a cup of wine!
You miss old pop, no need to cry - encrusted diamonds for his eyes!
Their lives were dull, their deaths so sad, no longer extras - is that so bad?
Throw back the doors, the viewers pause, to see departed on all fours

Raise the bar, have I gone too far?
I am the funeral director, but they're the stars

I want my license back ...

[Rabid Garfunkel]

Funeral Director
Rabid Garfunkel
with music by Francis Scott Key
lyrics and vocals by George W. Bush (rearranged by Dr. Yo)

This is not a rebel song, heh.

[Mogosagatai]

<b>Phunt Your Friends "Funeral Director"</b>
<font size=1><i>some lyrics by Emily Dickinson</i></font>

Love -- is anterior to Life --
Posterior -- to Death --
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth --

I was mortified of facing her the first night that we met,
but she led me by the hand and comforted me until I felt safe.
And I was finally awake. Finally, a wake.
What I'm trying to say is that she meant the world to me.

And I need her memory
(And it don't really matter)
to be pure, to remind me
(when a candle dies. If I let my eyes adjust,)
of beauty and
(I find)
how the world can be.
(I can see.)

.yromem ni enorht
reporp reh ot reh daeL
.em koot ecno ehs yaw eht
dnah eht yb reh ekaT

And now she's in your hands,
so take good care of her,
just like she did for me.
And if you could, please
tell me where to go.

But it don't make no difference
when a candle dies.
'Cause when I look around,
there's nothing left to show.

I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth -- themselves are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

[tonetripper]

Funeral Director - Draft

Once you are gone you can never come back
From my oven you will rise up the stack
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

I'm not the happy dude up in the sky
I'm the one below just taking what's mine

Drain your veins & I'll sew up your eyes
Dress ya up & we'll show ya off nice
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Maybe closed casket cuz they won't recognize
I direct you, I direct, direct you to die

As the dirt falls I'll be fucking your wife
Man she looked good in black and oh she was tight
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Your widow whore she was asking for more
My condolences,
The Funeral Director

[PiGPEN]

Everytime i hear gunshots...Im Gettin Paid
Everytime i hear high screams...Im Gettin Paid
Everytime i hear god sermon...Im Gettin Paid
Im Gettin Paid And i aint afraid to say it
Cuz youre dead tears get shed
Lush service, money on your head
Now money in my hand for a bit of land
Body in a can lobby of the damned
Thought he was your friend no ones honory at the end
For the love of money robbery and sin
Gang wars, hate wars, state wars
Shot down, knocked down, raped whores
I take em by the hundreds government funded
A flag makes a hero a hero makes a ton of it
Money that is funny that kids
All must wanna grow up to be huddled in pits
Cuz its where half em end up sent up
State or river or hole or pole and what?
Whos to blame im not here to name names
In any case it all stays the same

Everytime i hear gunshots...Im Gettin Paid
Everytime i hear high screams...Im Gettin Paid
Everytime i hear god sermon...Im Gettin Paid
Im Gettin Paid Im Gettin Paid

[nyjm]

funeral director
- noah mclaughlin

Guns are heavy, even unloaded
But you wouldn't know nothin' about that
Caskets are heavy, especially loaded
But you wouldn't know nothin' about that
Too much talkin' about what you're doin'
No, you wouldn't hear nothin' about that

Not with all that lyin'
Not with all that hollow rage
Not with all that money
You stuffed in your pockets
While everyone looked the other way

Drape that flag on one more victim
But you wouldn't hear nothin' about that
Just keep on sendin' our lambs to slaughter
You don't wanna see nothin' about that
Just keep on closin' your eyes to those bodies
We'll just stack them here on the White House lawn

Yeah, with all that lyin'
With all that hollow rage
With all that money
You stuffed in your pockets
While everyone looked the other way