---

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.