I was six years old when my Opa passed away
I peered into the casket as he lay there cold and grey
He looked so different with his mouth sewn closed
They did his makeup wrong, and he smelled of chemicals

Please don't embalm me, when it's me who's finally died
Don't paint my face up, or fill my veins with formaldehyde
You can keep my meat fresh with dry ice and essential oils
Until you're ready to return me to the soil

Feed the earth with my body
All the blood and the guts that made me me
Embrace the beauty of rotting
We are nothing but seeds

The pews were agony at my Opa's funeral
My suit was itchy, and my shoes were too small
The sermon was boring, then the organ wheezed and sighed
My dad had coffee breath, and I wished I was outside

What I want is a festival, a celebration of all life
Djembes and shakers, humans dancing in the night
Host a potluck at a friend's house if you cannot be outside
Sing songs of comfort and hold each other while you cry

Feed the earth with my body
All the blood and the guts that made me me
Embrace the beauty of rotting
We are nothing but seeds

My opa's body was buried in a coffin made of pine
At our current rate of progress it'll outlast humankind
And I say he was buried, but I'm taking that on faith
We draped his box with flowers, turned around, and walked away

Lay me down in a blanket in a hole you've dug yourselves
Toss the soil down on me. Anyone who cares can help
Then let the worms have at me, making good use of my bones
Come back in the springtime; I'm in the flowers that have grown

Feed the earth with my body
All the blood and the guts that made me me
Embrace the beauty of rotting
We are nothing but seeds