dance along their tombs with me, dance along the season strums free, with death on our tongues and snaking amidst our feet, we can see we really need no other, make a sacrifice to me, you're a wooden doll, and I, a chipper boy swollen with danger-- the black birds confetti fall and veil our skeletal frames-- the smoking guns, the sour milk, and the obese worms call out to us-- dance along their tombs with me, dance along the vibrance hallucinates a crucifix, a caricature, a christmas, your bony fingers feel fine against the sockets of my crimes-- I'm hardly alive and that's so encouraging-- the end perpetually nigh, the future stumbles blind, you're a wooden doll, I'm your match-- let's stoke the night burn and beacon until the flies blare the buzz.