Night Of The Dead

Dirge of the macabre maw
Opening up of the fanged dance floor
Cobwebs hang from the rafters
Chandeliers adorned with raptures
Jester cavorts along to the scheme
As his smile sits with an evil beam
But sing it once then start again
Sew into this marrying of when
As skeletons sway and ghouls cry
Funeral march of the bloody ally
A place where death is just the start
Where every word still has a part
But the fangs will not obey
This party shall never fade to grey
Can you repeat this dance with me?
You writhe right and I spin left
All of it a part of decaying theft
Jewels that once occupied a crown
For them each of us would drown
Little do we seem to contemplate
About the open mouthed shape
It rests beneath our very feet
And we are but just the meat
Marrow upon which it will chew
Satisfying brand of tissue
We know this and still we writhe
For this is where we do thrive
Gliding across the polished stone
Best place for our dirge to roam