the oblong box is carried, down the darkened corridor, small flames from red candles barely illuminate the mausoleum door a child is laid to resting, in a crevice of niter and stone, a mother falls to her knee's, in fear of being alone depraved packs of dogs, hunt their bones at night, possessed by some perversion, their eyes make their own light white from the grip of death, he rises to bark like a dog, together they romp, through the darkness, robbing the graves of those who they love defying the laws of the centuries, resisting social gravity, they weaken, in the morning light, and turn to a pile of ashes depraved packs of dogs, hunt their bones at night, possessed by some perversion, their eyes make their own light depraved packs of dogs, hunt their bones at night, possessed by some perversion, their eyes make their own light white from the grip of death, he rises to bark like a dog, together they romp, through the darkness, robbing the graves of those who they love defying the laws of the centuries, resisting social gravity, they weaken, in the morning light, and turn to a pile of ashes depraved packs of dogs, hunt their bones at night, possessed by some perversion, their eyes make their own light