Oh, you dress so nice
Can turn everything sour
'Cause you move through this crowd
Themselves a strictly pious daughter
Don't live through bein' dead wrong
Your parents must have raised
In trouble after hours
Well, I guess that
And you might think people
After a while these hot, hot nights
This after hours, afterlife
Just like partin' water
Tried to follow you out
They drop like flies
I know it's not hard to get
Oh, I'm hopin' that I'm not dead right
But I did not know
Oh, I know it's not hard to get
Can turn everything sour
You dress to kill
After a while these hot, hot nights
I'm not ready to die in style tonight
Where you'd be leadin' on
But who's the funeral for?
