She put on her favorite black dress,
grabbed her camera and guitar,
walked to the graveyard on 9th and S
because it wasn't very far

This place was her true sanctuary
The place where she felt most at home
She'd sing songs in the cemetery
Tunes for the boxes of bones

Sitting atop of a headstone,
she'd take photographs of the crows
And she knew that she wasn't alone
Her friends were all buried in rows

Each song that she played would just echo
And bounce right back into the ground
The ghosts grabbed on and would not let go
And they rode her music all around

She cried at the beauty before her
The music and ghosts filled the skies
And the undead began to adore her
As more darkness grew in her eyes

At one point she tried to leave that place
But the graveyard kept bringing her back
She then lost all the color from her face,
turned into stone, and then cracked