SO DON’T COME TO MY FUNERAL
You never knew
how beautiful I could be.
You never saw
just how blue my eyes were.
You couldn’t feel me fly
and did not sense
the passion in my beating words.
So don’t come to my funeral,
don’t come to my funeral.
You were never there
when my heart broke.
You didn’t pick me up
when my ideals drowned.
You never got drunk with me
in the sunshine of my smiles.
You never felt the love in me.
So don’t come to my funeral,
don’t come to my funeral.
You hemmed in my free spirit
with your overeducated mind.
You trapped the birds in my poems
and caged my strong ideas.
You couldn’t act the fool
for fear you lost your face.
You never risked a dance.
So don’t come to my funeral,
don’t come to my funeral.
You never studied the art of chance,
the sudden surge of love in a stranger,
the golden coin in an Edinburgh gutter.
Your education controlled your heart.
Would you save me as I fell from the sky?
Would you bleed for me?
I sense not, I sense you are cold.
So don’t come to my funeral,
don’t come to my funeral.
I don’t want to see you there.
Because you lied to me forever.
Because you couldn’t play a tune in your poems.
Don’t come to my funeral,
don’t come to my funeral.
Keith Armstrong
