Some say he was a man
Who kept his money in a can
Spending only to pacify
They buried him in apple cores
Put a clock up on his door
Replaced all the numbers with dead wasps

Save yer receipts & fevers
For the weeping wall
Build yer house of bitters
Where the tears will not fall

Someone said she was the kind
Where sorrow sinks into the eyes
Her house smelled like old sweet meat
They buried her in lemon rinds
And thousands of eisenhower dimes
Small, round, silver & sublime

Save yer receipts & fevers
For the weeping wall
Build yer house of bitters
Where the tears will not fall