East Coast Funeral Lyrics by The Frisk
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My Mother's silence
My Brother's violence
Stranger in a casket we called family
Hell would be too kind of a resting place
My Mother's silence
My Brother's violence
Stranger in a casket we called family
I still can't stand the sight of your fucking face

For you, for me, for us, that's why I do the things I do
For you, for me, for us, don't like my best? Fuck you!
My Mother's silence   My Brother's violence   Stranger in a casket we called family   Hell would be too kind of a resting place   My Mother's silence   My Brother's violence   Stranger in a casket we called family   I still can't stand the sight of your fucking face      For you, for me, for us, that's why I do the things I do   For you, for me, for us, don't like my best? Fuck you!