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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 never saw the money that went down
your throat through the hole in your belly.

13 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 I wonder what we're doing here

You're a disgrace to the concept of family
The priest won't divulge the fact in his homily
And I'll stand up and scream if
the mourning remain quiet
You can deck out 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
Just cause he's gone doesn't change the fact:
He was a bastard in life, thus a bastard in death

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