The carnival is back in town
And all is buzzing with joy. The sound
Of children playing and crying
Fill the air. None think of dying
In such a lovely place,
But do not let your eyes turn toward space,
For this carnival plays the tune of
The Funeral March.
Speak not of the sound you hear
Late at night. Though queer,
You must ignore your fright
For there is no escaping the clutch
Of Time and cold Death’s touch.
Run away, run away while you still can,
You silly children. Listen not to the man
Standing at the gate for he only sings
The Funeral March.
Look away from the carousel,
Its beauty is evil, and only leads to Hell
And Death. Go forward or back,
But it makes no difference. It cuts no one slack
And takes no pay for its soul-snatching. Your tears
And screams are all its sustenance. Cover your ears
And look away, my dears. Do not dance to the tune of
The Funeral March.
Pay no attention to the sweet smell of cotton candy
It is only used to make coffins. The taste may be dandy
But the proof is in the poison. Come grey and old,
Then leave spry and young. If you are bold
You may live another day or year, but rest assured
They’ll be back to take you. Their sworn word
Is no good to your ears, because all you can hear is
The Funeral March.