Death (In The American Eccentric Empirical Tradition)

The day I take my life away

I won’t lock it in a jar

With spider eggs and a lizard’s leg

And a hand-turned copper bar.

Make no mistake on that morning

When everything’s gone from my head

The sun will still rise in the courtyard

The sparrows still sing to be fed.

They’ll sing for food on the concrete

Same as the morning before

But their song will echo my name

When my shadow appears at the door.

Then shading the rising sun

The sparrows will come in a crowd

And lift my soul like a silver shroud

To drape across a cloud.

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The phrase The American Eccentric
Empirical Tradition comes from here:

The Weird Fact And The Big Romance