I lie in bed at night Wondering what it would be like If I were dead Not a very pleasant topic I know But important none the lessSee, I don’t particularly want to die In fact I quite like living But sometimes Sometimes you just wonderWould they cry? Would they share funny memories? Would they know which poem I want read? (It’s Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep) Would they miss me? And most importantly, Would they remember me?After a while Would they still think of me? Or would I become A faded memory That only comes up When looking through old photosIt may sound selfish But I want them to remember me Every year on my birthday I want them to feel sad for a minute Because they miss meIs that reasonable of me? To want to be missed And remembered When I’m gone
Hello, hello, turn your radio on; Is there anybody out there? Help me sing my song. Hello, hello, turn your radio on; Is there anybody out there? Tell me what went wrong. La, la, la, life is a strange thing. Life is a strange thing. Hello, hello, turn your radio on;