The Dead like to Party 3
The ticking clock is strangely still,
Was it beacause the mirror smashed and you thought that you had breathed your last.
For the mirror had told you to get out,
it scared you half to death,
the spiders crawled all over the house.
A house of imagination and where imagination drew it's last breath.
The dead came out crawling all over the walls, the monsters too. They went out to dance and drink and screw.
But surely though a monster deserves to party now and again and do the bogaloo.
Afterwards though there are cracks in the walls that I can't mend,
The creacks spread out all over the world and now the dead are everywhere,
under the stairs; in the atic and on the moon.
I'm glad the dead only come out once a year, but still I can't wait for Halloween and for the dead new moon.