The sky is an uneven grey, as a cold drizzle hides the rain of her tears upon the shiny black casket. Sixteen feet from the hearse and six feet down; these are the last rites of a dead man. Even if he did deserve it, some secrets will forever be lost to the grave. Afterwards, the will, and at last the vintage gold-top will be hers.

Elegant, understated, and possibly premeditated, Coffin presents a leather-tipped guitar strap worthy of a eulogy.