• This morbid dance of death is our life,
    Our love is the fire we dance around,
    Dance Macabre is the musical soul,
    As we both dance to that hellish sound.

    Dancing underneath the skies of rust,
    Lust entrancing us, making us dance,
    The dance of death summoning reapers
    As we both drop and rape the last chance.

    This dance of morbid fascination,
    Wanting to see what will happen now,
    But horrified at how it could be,
    Whilst at the idol we humbly bow.

    Hold up the sacrifice and slice it,
    Cut the throat of a single pure dove,
    Watch the crimson spill and fleshes rage
    As we bid goodbye to endless love.

    One last kiss, one last goodbye, too late,
    You fall and crumble to dust right there,
    Yet the worst fact of the death of love
    Is that I know now, I did not care.

    The dove falls apart as my mind cracks,
    Shatters and spreads itself with my will,
    Will of iron but a blade of steel
    That slowly closes in for the kill.

    And still we dance.