| To the morgue… Take him to the morgue
|
| To the morgue… Take him to the morgue
|
| At… Devil Lake… Sanitarium, many a patient had died in vain
|
| Never a question to be asked, no no, never a thing to explain
|
| So they took his bones and skin to the morgue in the West Wing
|
| It was clear… to Doctor Eastmann
|
| Harry had died of fright in the night
|
| If he had cared he could have found the spider
|
| Laying eggs in Harry’s neck
|
| The smoldering eyes… in Harry’s head
|
| Had become the home… of spiders instead
|
| Solos: Simonsen — La Rocque
|
| To the morgue … Take him to the morgue
|
| To the morgue … Take him to the morgue
|
| To the morgue… We must all go to the morgue
|
| To the morgue … We must all go to the morgue
|
| Deep down … below the ground
|
| Where it was king of cold and damp
|
| Too many stiffs to be fit in the cooler
|
| Gathering dust in the Hallways of Death
|
| The smoldering eyes… in Harry’s head
|
| Had become the home… of spiders instead
|
| Spiders here … Spiders everywhere
|
| Spiders feeding the dead to their young
|
| Spiders here… Spiders everywhere
|
| Spiders using the dead for their name
|
| Spiders … They’re growing like rats from the plague
|
| Spiders … There’s so many more everyday
|
| Solos: Simonsen — La Rocque
|
| Summer is coming to an end
|
| And the cellar in the morgue is a nest now
|
| One thousand poisonous creatures
|
| Eight thousand poisonous legs
|
| The smoldering eyes… in Harry’s head
|
| Had become the home… of spiders instead
|
| To the morgue. |
| We must all go to the morgue… |