Party At The Cemetery - POORSTACY

All the creepy teenage brats

Walk around all dressed in black

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But when you die, you can’t come back

Cut my soul over a wrist

She wears long sleeves to hide the tracks

Come to the cemetery gates

Where all these feelings play and dance

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)

Turn me from bones to ashes

Scatter me across the grass

We were never meant to last

Life’s a sick and twisted laugh

Blood is all over my hands

Day of the dead, let’s gather hands

As their corpses leave the caskets

Now let’s sing along and dance

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)

Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)