Home of the Grave - Birdflesh

Out of the mist, a living dead

Rotting legs without head

Evil laugh and freezing breath

I must go and greet his death

Now I’m dead, he killed me too

Skin and bones and just one shoe

Dig a hole and roll the dice

Into the grave with maggots and mice

Land of the free, home of the grave

I am dead, I won’t behave

Me earthly life I cannot save

Death is now my aftershave