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…