The ashen grey muse commissions a new verse
A song to while away the long sojourn in the hearse
Yet all of us who danse macabre to these dour, dismal tunes
Become cold, grim and hard as the dirt upon the tomb...
In darkened dirges death's knell peals out it's toll
As another cadaver is consigned six feet down to its hole
But ere the last shovel of dirt falls on the wall of the box
We gravely offer a salute to those about to rot...
So lift up your severed heads, in a song for the dead
Life's course ever runs red, so let no lyric remain unsaid
As from our mouths the melody is bled, in a symphony scripted in red
Like rats by the piper we're led, to join in this song for the dead...
[Lead - Mike]
The humor of the gallons never fails to ring true
In this dead, bleak, sick world that we're hung, drawn and quartered though
As each internecine instrument plays its own bloody part
The hammering of coffin nails outpaces the beating of our hearts...
Symphonic surgery orchestrated, a cleaver conducts
The execrable epiphany comes too late, just to reduce us to chunks
Rising up from the sod heaves a gross, putrid breath
As the chorus is joined in this song for the dead...
So lift up your severed heads, in a song for the dead
Life's course ever runs red, so let no lyric remain unsaid
As from our mouths the melody is bled, in a symphony scripted in red
Like rats by the piper we're led, to join in this song for the dead...
[Lead - Matt]
Truncated toccatas deranged - raked across barbed strings and hacked
Eviscerated etudes for the de-brained - plucked upon heartstring stretched
on the rack
Medicinal movements decomposed - Regurgitating oratorios obscene
Forensic fugues and
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