Make Sure it’s Warm

When I die,

Bury me at sea; just make sure it’s warm.

 

When my heart no longer spasms,

Release my remains in space,

-the one measured in fathoms

Where the great ships rest among unexplored chasms.

 

Bury me at sea; just make sure it’s warm.

 

My remains to be recycled, do not delay

Don’t confine me to cold ground,

Where sole duty is decay

I welcome the silence; I’ve retired from the fray.

 

Bury me at sea; just make sure it’s warm.

 

Cast my body off in the Carolinas or the Keys

Don’t pay any mind if it’s the bullet or disease

I’ll have a crew in no time,

Old Salts home in heavy seas.

 

Don’t trap my body in some rural grave

Don’t leave it locked in a crypt or a cave

Rotting like a dingy church with a half-hearted congregation,

Visitors coming once a year out of obligation.

 

Bury me at sea; just make sure it’s warm.

 

I’ll be happy down there,

At one with nautical lore.

I’ll no longer need my regulator, or fins to explore.

 

Don’t imprison me in cedar,

Nor incinerate me either,

Ya

Bury me at sea;

Just make sure it’s warm.