I sing a song to the dead
From my heart profoundly sad
Forlorn, I cling to everything that is them by betraying their peace
I keep death in asylum
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
I touch their eyes, harvest their ruin, and wrap it in mine to try to see them
I can’t let them go, this day in decay, 'til death do us part — that’s what
they all say
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
I wear their clothes, so warm and tight
You think it’s wrong? I know I’m right
'Cause even their hair, so soft and fine, once draping their skull,
now looks good on mine
Oh… looks good on mine
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
Song for the dead
All good things must come to an end, empty words when death is your friend
I’m living this endless, lucid dream, in the land of the dead and to liberty
Never buried, neither forgotten, I dance and laugh amongst the rotten
And when, my kingdom meets its maker, what song will I sing at the Undertaker?