| Please don’t be alarmed
|
| I got the heart of a child
|
| It’s actually one of many
|
| That I’ve slowly compiled
|
| You have looks to die for
|
| And a brain to match
|
| I promise to remove it all
|
| Without a scratch
|
| Dem Bones!
|
| Lest we forget
|
| About your ravishing eyes
|
| I’d love to see them both
|
| Immaculately excised!
|
| Now whatcha got hiding
|
| Under all that meat?
|
| I don’t believe
|
| That beauty’s only skin deep
|
| We all amass ghosts of our past
|
| I display mine under glass
|
| Perfection is fleeting
|
| Commence the bleeding
|
| And now I must propose
|
| We Dig Dem Bones!
|
| I bid you welcome, my guest
|
| I have something to get off my chest
|
| I am a fan of some degree of curiosities
|
| Now now! |
| Don’t you fret
|
| I have a spot for all of my guests
|
| On the mantel or the bookcase
|
| I can always make some space
|
| All the beauty of out days
|
| A shame its got to wither away
|
| You’ll live on, rest assured
|
| And forever be preserved
|
| From here on in
|
| You shall never age
|
| Formaldahyde
|
| Will keep those effects at bay
|
| A piece of my collection
|
| Always on display
|
| An object to admire
|
| Like a lost monet
|
| Everybody shuns their skeleton
|
| And hides it from all the fun
|
| Elbow grease and soap
|
| Will remove your pulp
|
| And it will polish like a stone
|
| When I scrub Dem Bones!
|
| I bid you welcome, my guest
|
| I have something to get off my chest
|
| I am a fan of some degree of curiosities
|
| Now now! |
| Don’t you fret
|
| I have a spot for all of my guests
|
| On the mantel or the bookcase
|
| I can always make some space
|
| All the beauty of out days
|
| A shame its got to wither away
|
| You’ll live on, rest assured
|
| And forever be preserved
|
| Well is there something wrong with me?
|
| I prefer my friends deceased
|
| Disassembled and put on display
|
| Deep inside the hallowed halls
|
| Your bones will decorate the walls
|
| Safe from inevitable decay
|
| You’ll soon agree that life is better
|
| Without all that pesky leather
|
| Skin is overrated, can’t you see?
|
| Would you prefer to rot and mold?
|
| In a grave that’s damp and cold
|
| Or join my esteemed menagerie
|
| Or you could choose to just grow old
|
| Journey into the unknown
|
| Spend your last breath all alone
|
| Death waiting to lash out
|
| Or will you become history
|
| Or a sight for all to see
|
| You must believe when I decree
|
| Its what’s inside that counts
|
| We all amass ghosts of our past
|
| I display mine under glass
|
| Perfection is fleeting
|
| Commence the bleeding
|
| And now I must propose
|
| We Dig Dem Bones!
|
| Bones! |
| Bones! |
| Bones!
|
| Scrub Dem Bones! |