If I die of vanity
Promise me
Promise me
They bury me
Some place I don’t want to be
You’ll dig me up
And transport me
Unceremoniously
Away from
The swollen city breeze
The garbage bag trees
Whispers of disease
Acts of enormity
And lower me
Slowly and sadly and properly
Get Ry Cooder
To sing my eulogy
At the hundredth meridian
Where the great plains begin — The Tragically Hip