More plates more dates

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, which 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 a 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

Shield from the sufferance plaguing the others

Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables

Charity reeks of cheap wine and pity

And I'm thinking of you as I do every year

When we count all our blessings and wonder what we're doing here

You're a disgrace to the concept of family

The priest won't divulge that fact in his homily

And 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 piece

Using five-dollar words while praising his integrity

And just 'cause he's gone, it doesn't change the fact

He was a bastard in life, thus, a bastard in death, yeah