Graveyard Picnic - Aurelio Voltaire

When I find the living a bore

There’s a place I go

I answer the call, go over a wall

Where the crosses are all in a row

Mind the trees, get down on my knees

There’s a hole in the gate

I look 'round, that I won’t be found

And sit down next to his grave

If you squirm at the Conqueror Worm

This is no place for thee

Or if you fright at the mere site

Of the corpse of my Annabel Lee

If you fear there’s something you hear

A heart beating under the floor

Still your heart, there’s no need to start

It’s just me having tea with Lenore

Sit here on the ground

Dead leaves in the trees all around you

Come enter this land

Take this book in your hands

If you find the living a bore

There’s a place you can go Answer the call, go over the wall

Where the crosses are all in a row

Mind the trees, get down on your knees

Sneak in just like the breeze

Look 'round, though you won’t be found

It’s just you, Edgar Allen and me Sit here on the ground

Dead leaves in the trees all around you

Come enter this land

Take this book in your hands