For Allan and Joel
Styrofoam Plates
Death Cab for Cutie, The Photo Album
There's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes
I threw them to sea but a gust blew them backwards
And the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted
Was par for the course just as when you were living.
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father
But a donor of seeds to a poor single mother
That would raise us alone, we'd never see the money
That went down your throat through the hole in your belly.
Thirteen years old in the suburbs of Denver
Standing in line for Thanksgiving dinner
At the Catholic church, the servers wore crosses
To shield from the sufferance plaguing the others.
Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables, charity reeks
Of cheap wine and pity and I'm thinking of you.
I do every year when we count all our blessings
And wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace to the concept of family
The priest won't divulge that fact in his homily
And I'll stand up and scream if the mourning remain quiet,
You can deck out a lie in a suit but I won't buy it.
I won't join in the procession that's speaking their peace
Using five dollar words while praising his integrity
And just 'cause he's gone it doesn't change the fact:
He was a bastard in life thus a bastard in death.
Styrofoam Plates
Death Cab for Cutie, The Photo Album
There's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes
I threw them to sea but a gust blew them backwards
And the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted
Was par for the course just as when you were living.
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father
But a donor of seeds to a poor single mother
That would raise us alone, we'd never see the money
That went down your throat through the hole in your belly.
Thirteen years old in the suburbs of Denver
Standing in line for Thanksgiving dinner
At the Catholic church, the servers wore crosses
To shield from the sufferance plaguing the others.
Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables, charity reeks
Of cheap wine and pity and I'm thinking of you.
I do every year when we count all our blessings
And wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace to the concept of family
The priest won't divulge that fact in his homily
And I'll stand up and scream if the mourning remain quiet,
You can deck out a lie in a suit but I won't buy it.
I won't join in the procession that's speaking their peace
Using five dollar words while praising his integrity
And just 'cause he's gone it doesn't change the fact:
He was a bastard in life thus a bastard in death.
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