Don’t Lie at My Funeral

(Speaking low, calm) If they come to speak for me, Tell 'em—speak true. I already made peace with the dirt.

Don’t paint me noble, don’t make me kind, I left a trail too red to hide. Loved too hard, fought too wrong, I never fit in their Sunday song.

Don’t lie at my funeral, don’t clean my name, Don’t turn my sins into some holy flame. Let the truth ride shotgun down that aisle, I lived crooked — but I lived worthwhile.

I stole from luck, I kissed the pain, Shook hands with loss in the pouring rain. Never prayed for a crown or a cure, I just rode 'cause my soul weren’t pure.

Don’t lie at my funeral, don’t preach me clean, Hell knows my heart better than any dream. If Heaven listens, let it laugh, ‘Cause I lived like fire cuts its path.

Say I fought too long, drank too deep, Say I sowed what I could never keep. But don’t say “good man” — I was never that. Just a man who wore his own combat.

Don’t lie at my funeral, just tell ‘em straight, I danced with sin, but I chose my fate. Lay me down with the truth I bled — I ain’t gone; I just outrode the dead.

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