Graveyard Picnic
When I find the living a boreThere's a place I goI answer the call, go over a wallWhere the crosses are all in a rowI mind the trees, get down on my kneesThere's a hole in the gateI look around, that I won't be foundAnd sit down next to his grave
If you squirm at the Conqueror WormThis is no place for theeOr if you fright at the mere sightOf the corpse of my Annabel LeeIf you fear there's something you hearA heart beating under the floorStill your heart, there's no need to startIt's just me having tea with Lenore
Sit here on the groundDead leaves in the trees all around youCome enter this landTake this book in your hand
If you find the living a boreThere's a place you can goAnswer the call, go over the wallWhere the crosses are all in a rowMind the trees, get down on your kneesSneak in just like the breezeLook around, though you won't be foundIt's just you, Edgar Allan and me
Sit here on the groundDead leaves in the trees all around youCome enter this landTake this book in your hand