Danse Macabre -

From the depths of the vaults, the shadows

Slowly rise, and peer at the world

With unseeing eyes

They crouch;

they crawl, on bleach-white

Bones, glistening through their ragged clothes

Figures with grotesque limbs distorted

That reach out and touch each passing soul

The orchestra of death playing for the reaper

To herald in his clarion call

They’re the living dead summoned by the dying

To lead them to the Danse Macabre

Who has awakened them, from eternal rest

And who are they calling, to the dance of death

Who will follow, the Danse Macabre

Rich or poor, wife or child

The cloaked figure of death with his scythe has

Chosen, for only the dying can join the dance

Only the dying can follow the dancers

Only they can join the funeral march

In the dark streets they gather

The dying together, and then they’ll dance

The Danse Macabre

Follow us, follow the dancers

Leave this world of pain and strife

Follow us and end the suffering

We’ll take you to a better life

Leave the living, follow the dancers

And join us in this one last dance

Leave the living, follow the music

And we’ll all dance the Danse Macabre

Open cemetery gates beckon, the dancing dead

And swirling mist welcomes, the funeral cortege

The vaults gape wide open, as the figures draw

Near, the pathway to hell, has led them here

Escorting dancers spin and stagger, grotesque

Figures in Death’s stage show

Their movements quicken as the tempo increases

As faster and faster the rhythm grows

Music composed in the depths of hell, by the

Players of the Danse Macabre

Follow us and end the suffering

We’ll take you to a better life

Leave the living, follow the dancers

And join us in this one last dance

Leave the living, follow the music

And we’ll all dance the Danse Macabre

No crowd to cheer the dead and the dying

No one to hear their mournful crying

One by one they dance out of the night

Out of life and out of sight

Dancers usher the dying forward

Ever onward and all in line

Echoes of the past surround them

As they fade back into the mistas of time

As the vaults doors slowly close behind

Them to the final strains of

The Danse Macabre