There Are No More Tickets to the Funeral (Were You a Witness)
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Text by Diamanda Galas
"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" by Roy Acuff
Were you a witness
Were you a witness
And on that holy day
And on that bloody day
Were you a witness
Were you a witness
And on that holy day
And on that bloody day
And on his dying bed he asked me;
"Tell all my friends I was fighting, too."
But to all cowards and voyeurs;
There are no more tickets to the funeral
There are no more tickets to the funeral
Were you a witness
Were you a witness
And on that holy day
And on that bloody day
There are no more tickets to the funeral
There are no more tickets to the funeral
The funeral is crowded
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed him to the cross?
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble
Where you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you a witness?
Were you there when they dragged him to the grave?
Were you there when they dragged him to the grave?
Sometimes it causes me to wonder, wonder, wonder
Were you there when they dragged him to the grave?
Were you a witness?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Sometimes it causes me to wonder, wonder, wonder
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
And on that holy day
And on that bloody day
Were you a witness?
Swing Swing Swing
I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Coming for to carry me home
a band of Angels coming after me
Coming for to carry me home
Swing Swing
A band of Devils! calling out my name
Coming for to drag me to the grave
Swing
But I will not go
And I shall not go
I shall wake up and I shall walk from this room
Into the sun
Where the dirty angel doesn’t run
Where the dirty angel cannot go
And brothers in this time of pestilence do know
Each time that we meet we hear another sick man sigh
Each time that we meet we hear another man has died
And I see Angels Angels: Devils!
Angels Angels: Devils!
Angels Angels: Devils!
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing Swing
Mr. Sandman makes a filthy bed for me
But I shall not rest
And I will not rest
As a man who has been blinded by the storm
And waits for angels by the road
While the Devil waits for me at night
With knives and lies and smiles
And straps me down
And sings the swing low sweet chariot of death knells
One by one like a sentence of the damned,
And one by one they to warn me
Of the perils of resistance,
And one by one of my brothers
Die unsung unloved unwanted: Die!
And faster please
We’ve got no money for extended visits says the sandman
But we who have gone before
Do not rest in peace
We who have died
Shall never rest in peace
Remember me?
Unburied I am screaming in the bloody furnaces of hell
And only ask for you
To raise your weary eyes to the sun
Until the sun has set
For we who have gone before do not rest in peace
We who have dies
Shall never rest in peace
There is no rest
Until the fighting’s done.
And I see Angels Angels: Devils!
Angels Angels: Devils!
Angels Angels: Devils!
Coming for to drag me to the grave.
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