Lyrics:

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 the 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
I'll stand up and scream if the mourning remain quiet,
you can deck out a 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, yeah.