Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red-
Cause there ain’t no sense
In my bein’ dead.

I hate to die this way with the quiet
Over everything like a shroud.
I’d rather die where the band’s a playin’
Noisy and loud.

Rather die the way I lived-
Drunk and rowdy and gay!
God! Why did you ever curse me
Makin’ me die this way?

-Langston Hughes