Testo Pallbearing Down

Another match to a votive candle for another friend I had to put in the ground. I'm always holding onto the casket handles and waiting for my turn to come around. With a song for the dead, I hang down my head. Each night, I hang down my head. Rotgut, buckshot, tattoos of tombstones. I try to keep track of the body count. I'd cry, but I only cry at the movies. I only cry when it doesn't count. I suffer no fools and I fall for no spells. I know well what suffering means. And I don't throw coins into wishing wells because sometimes a dime's worth more than a dream