Best Kept Secret Of A Cemetery

Gravestones lying at my feet
Silent voices that always weep
Hearts that are faded
And bodies quietly shaded
Remind me of the past
To sit and think of all the things that do not come to last
As I sit here and think,
In this little graveyard
I hear the withering, and cold bodies speak
Of what is to come tonight
And of their families kind and dear
If only to hear them for a short time,
You will hear and learn many things
Now I hear people ask why do you stay there?
I say nothing to them now because it is a secret.
Dusk does come as a lonely black figure comes
With a violin in hand and in the other a glaive
But I am not afraid
He sets his glaive down against a gravestone
And gracefully climbs atop a boulder,
To raise his instrument to chin
A gentle but haunting tune he does play
And as the earth rumbles and starts to shake,
The earth does churn as figures rise from the dank, dirt tombs
The moon is full as the dead come out
To come and play, to howl and shout
But by midnight tonight all shall be still
As the song does end and the dead stop to steal
They climb back into bed to rest up
For the next full moon they will come to steal
Just once more until the reaper says it so.
Every full moon I come here to think
And as the moon rises the shadows do creep
For the time has come to rise again
And every time I leave with him
For I am the reapers friend and by the time the party’s over
I fall asleep and wake up in bed
But maybe one day I’ll stay up to watch and dance and play
Because I like the dark, cold shadows they never seem to stray
But now I must say good night
Till I see you in daylight.