Tom Waits
After You Die
Like a tin can feeding
Like a skinned hand bleeding
Like a tramp choir crying
Like a campfire dying

Like a big dog breeding
Like a pig hog feeding
Like a top hat tipping
Like a dropped rat skipping

Like a tin horn glowing
Like a gin storm blowing
Like a necktie flapping
Like a rich guy clapping

Like a big fool crawling
Like a rig tool falling
Like a back door squeaking
Like a crack whore tweaking

What is it like?
What is it like after we die?

Like a string that's broken
Like a thing that's smokin'
Like a blue flame burning
Like a new brain learning
Like more cold coffee
Like a poor old softie
Like a declining graveyard
Like a shining brave star

Like a child that's fainting
Like a wild-ass painting

What is it like?
What is it like after we die?