Dancing With Mr. D کے بول

Yeah, down in the graveyard where we have our tryst The air smells sweet, the air smells sick He never smiles, his mouth merely twists The breath in my lungs feels clinging and thick But I know his name, he's called Mr. D And one of these days he's going to set you free Human skulls is hanging right around his neck The palms of my hands is clammy and wet Lord, I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free And dancing, dancing, dancing so free And dancing, Lord, keep your hand off me And dancing with Mr. D., with Mr. D., with Mr. D And will it be poison put in my glass? And will it be slow or will it be fast? The bite of a snake, the sting of a spider A drink of Belladonna on a Toussaint night Hiding in a corner in New York City Looking down…