A Funeral On Christmas Sunday Songtext

All the kids of our town found old teeth, spit and licked,
sewed them on moldy cloth, and flew the flag of distress.
Then became old bones and burned it up, but burned too.
Tired blood soaked on through.
The main reason I don't look my age is because I have never sold out
Who will show up at their funerals?
No one fills the seats at the funerals.