The funeral band plays a song of despair For the mourners who wish they were dead Half of the crowd says "I spit on your grave" While the other says take me instead The church bells are wringing the tears from our eyes And it looks like you're lying in bed So I'll see you in the beyond It's high time that we were gone ahead With a hand for the funeral band The funeral bands bids adieu, au revoir Bon voyage and then Goodnight, Irene A low flying plane spells out words in the sky But nobody knows what they mean The cotton wool letters fade into grey Like the smoke on our chewing gum dreams Only the two of us know They wrote the words "hello" and "Please Give a hand for the funeral band" The funeral band takes their tips from the hat That they left surreptitiously near Your people remembered you as they walked out And their change clinked and turned into beer You only live once but there's plenty of you And you die every day of the year Before their echo dies I came to say goodbye, my dear With a hand from this funeral band