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?