On the very day I die, the very last of my desires
Is that you take my broken body and commit it to the fire
And then when the fire is finished, scrape the ashes in a tin
Take them down to London's drinking reservoirs and throw them in
And then specks infinitesimal of my mortal remains
Will slide down seven million throats and into seven million veins
And I will creep through their capillaries to the marrow of their bones
And they will wake to bright new mornings and then worldlessly they'll know
That I remain, I am remembered
And so these seven million innocents, they will have me in their blood
And when they die they'll burn their bodies, or be buried in the mud
And I will spread through streams and rivers like a virus through a host
From the hamlets to the cities, from the rivers to the coast
And from there into the channel, across the great Atlantic ocean
And ever onwards to the new world through the water's gentle motions
Until parts of me are part of every landmass, every sea
In the rain upon your crops, and in the very air you breathe
I remain, I am remembered
And though the things I love will be washed away in the rain
I remain
I'm not convinced of the existence of these things that don't exist
Yeah by Jewish boys with big ideas and scratches on their wrists
By a loving or a vengeful God, or one who'd condescend
To wash his hands down in the mire among the misery of men
Or by ever turning circles hanging timeless in the sky
Like a dreamcatcher distracting from the fact you're going to die
But I place one foot before the other, confident because
I know that everything we are right now is everything that was
That Wat Tyler, Woody Guthrie, Dostoevsky, and Davy Jones
Have all dissolved into the ether and have crept into my bones
And all the cells in all the lines upon the backs of both my hands
Were once carved into the details of two feet upon the sand
So we remain
We are remembered
And through the things we love will be washed away in the rain
We remain