Lyrics:

How right you are, dear Paul
That we hear of famous people's deaths
While on vacation
Perhaps it's so their funerals
Are not too crowded
With their loyal fans
Being out of town and all
Those celebrities
Are pretty clever

I've heard that someone's born
Every 8 second
So I presume that someone dies
Every 8 seconds
Just to keep things even
It makes me feel shortchanged
When I read the obituary page
Someone's holding back
Information
It also prompts me to flip through the telephone directory
On sleepless nights
Saying over, and over
And over again -
'Yep. You're all going
Every last one of you.'
Wow!
Heaven must be a big place

I don't know too many dead people
But folks tell me I'm young
When my grandfather died
He was laid out in the Bubb
Funeral home
And I was secretly glad
Mr. Bubb didn't change his name
To something more romantic
When he went into business
I just wish it was less memorable

My high school locker partner Ned
Worked part-time for a mortician
Imagine dressing dead people
Straightening their ties
And fluffing up their hair all so
You can afford to take a girl out to the movies on Saturday night
Well that's love
That's adolescent desperation!
I would have been honored to have Ned
Take me to the movies
And let him buy me popcorn

Instead, I went out with a boy who died
The hardest part was knowing that his body didn't just disappear on the bed
The moment he left
I think that's what keeps me off of suicide
The idea that there's something left
For someone else to clean up
How rude and inconsiderate
It's a pain to take out the weekly trash, l
Et alone figure out what to do with
Over a hundred pounds of flesh
That's about to go bad
Then even worse
In India, where there's a religious cult which believes you shouldn't desecrate any of the elements of the dead
They can't be buried
Or burned
They can't be cast out to sea
So they're taken to the top of the tower of silence
Where they become
The vulture's problem

How's that for passin' the buck?

No, when I go, I want to go clean
Convenient, leaving no mess
As if I vaporized while taking a shower
As if I moved to Antarctica leaving
No forwarding address