Funeral March -

Crooked man with a crooked nose

Crooked neck and a funeral rose

Wretched, righteous, a life withdrawn

I’m marching on

My praying hands, they’ve been stained with blood

A broken man, baptized in the mud

My former self has all but dead and gone

I’m marching on

Good riddance to you, you’re in the clear

You’ve watched me dying, never shed no tear

I used to be a man till lines were drawn

I’m marching on

I tried to pray, but I lost the words

Voice trailed off like a flock of birds

I took my sins to the river bank

Cast them out, and they finally sank

I gave you everything till everything was gone

I’m marching on