At her funeral I never felt the grave
Never kissed the dead, had a laugh instead
Made a funny girl count nine best friends
Look how they adore her, standing here before her
With words in their pockets, hearts on thier sleeves
They sang her praise, I felt her breathe
And her photographs hung upon the wall
Of the little Jewish hall

And beautiful was her comet
And beautiful was her comet

At her funeral someone rolled the stone
Pushed it through the night
Eyes adjusting to her light
Dressed in black only if we wanted
Picasso rose and brighter, I think I would've liked her
With words in my pockets, tears up my sleeves
I ran back home to give them wings
They flew above what's inside
This world, it looks smaller from the sky

And beautiful was her comet
And beautiful was her comet