You can bury me out in the desert. Bury me up to my neck. And the vultures are circling round, but you better let Death know, I ain’t ready to go. I’ll be sticking around.

You can throw me out in the ocean, with nothing to hold on to. And the sharks are circling round, but you better let Death know that I ain’t ready to go. I’ll be sticking around.

You can stab me, shoot me, throw me off a train, poison me, chop me up and flush me down the drain, throw me in acid and do it all again. You can strangle me, dangle me above a cliff. Well I don’t care at all. And the angels are circling round and the devil awaits her due but you better let Death know and everyone else know I’ll be sticking around.