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Yeah, down in the graveyard where we have our tryst

The air smells sweet, the air smells sick

He never smiles, his mouth merely twists

The breath in my lungs feels clinging and thick

But I know his name, he's called Mr. D

And one of these days he's going to set you free

Human skulls is hanging right around his neck

The palms of my hands is clammy and wet

Lord, I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free

And dancing, dancing, dancing so free

And dancing, Lord, keep your hand off me

And dancing with Mr. D., with Mr. D., with Mr. D

And will it be poison put in my glass?

And will it be slow or will it be fast?

The bite of a snake, the sting of a spider

A drink of Belladonna on a Toussaint night

Hiding in a corner in New York City

Looking down…