He cowers alone, aside the pale graves
The lantern swings in the dark
Midnight's approaching, in slumber he falls
A cold wind blows out the spark.

The song of the nightbird, fades in the haze
The deer flew into the deep mist.
Shocked by a shriek, he startles from sleep
And terror is graping his wrist.

Scatter the bones on the hills
Breathe deep the poison, and know that it kills
Lay your hands onto the rust
And kneel down into the dust.

Coming forth from lairs of marble
Coming forth from coffins cold
Coming forth cadavers green
Coming forth as the chapels bell.

The graves lay all open, cadavers arise
They gather and dance in a row
All dressed in bone, adorned with dead flesh
Emerge from the tombs high and low.

So poor and so young and so old and so rich
They shake and they're twirling the hips
With knuckles on lap, with wrists bound in pitch
And the hymn of decay on their lips.

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