I'll wear my "Trophy Husband" shirt to the party when I die Shades under my cowboy hat on my head where I lie No prayers, no solemn shit—just music, laughs, food and drinks The traditional sad religious funeral really fucking stinks
Cigars are out back, burgers on the grill The bar is wide open, so come get your fill Please don't talk about how I'm in such a better place There's a burger getting cold—go ahead and stuff your face
Put the fun in my funeral - we're letting it all hang out The party and the stories you'll never be able to forget about The only crying I'll allow is from laughing way too hard Any sadness and grieving will get you kicked out of the yard Put the fun in my funeral, party till you're out of breath I spent my whole life having fun—forget about my death
Tequila is required—so raise your glass way up high If you don't do shots, well tonight you're gonna try "The only shots you miss are the ones you never take" Pour tequila for my friends—there's bad decisions left to make
Nobody will say that I was perfect all my life Everybody will start laughing—starting with my wife She'll likely tell the stories I hoped she wouldn't tell Like my D.I.Y. projects that didn't go so well
Remember our fun and all our crazy times Questionable decisions that apparently weren't crimes You better come with stories—make sure some of them are true But if a little bullshit makes 'em better, do what you gotta do
Put the fun in my funeral - we're letting it all hang out The party and the stories you'll never be able to forget about The only crying I'll allow is from laughing way too hard Any sadness and grieving will get you kicked out of the yard Put the fun in my funeral, party till you're out of breath I spent my whole life having fun—forget about my death
Put some pictures on the tables, let my records spin Find the ones where we look rough from everywhere we've been Don't crop out the middle fingers, don't clean up the past The pictures where we look the worst are where we had a blast
Let the party spill outside, all the way down to the bay Play my songs really loud, like any Saturday And if somebody calls the cops, just offer them a round Say, "It's all Scott's fault—but he can't turn it down"
When the party's over, don't bother with a plot Fire up that barbecue—get it good and hot Burn my ass to a crisp, then take me on some trips Leave half in Cancun, where we drank and paid tips
Put the rest in a red Solo cup—that's where I'll be When it's Kats's turn, lay that cup in her hands for me We'll have one final drink together, neither keeping score Her trophy husband in her hands, hers forevermore
Put the fun in my funeral - we're letting it all hang out The party and the stories you'll never be able to forget about The only crying I'll allow is from laughing way too hard Any sadness and grieving will get you kicked out of the yard Put the fun in my funeral, party till you're out of breath I spent my whole life having fun—forget about my death
Don't say, "He would've loved this," while you're pouring the booze Say, "That fucker planned this—even picked the tunes"
kawkawlinriverjukebox.com