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Under the arc of a weather stain boards |
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Ancient goblins, and warlords, |
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Come out the ground, not making a sound, |
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The smell of death is all around, |
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And the night when the cold wind blows |
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No one cares, nobody knows. |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again, |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again. |
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Follow victor to the sacred place |
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This aint a dream, I cant escape |
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Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones, |
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Spirits moaning among the tombstones, |
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And the night, when the moon is bright, |
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Someone cries, something aint right. |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again, |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again. |
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The moon is full, the air is still, |
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All of the sudden I feel a chain, |
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Victor is grinning, flesh rotting away, |
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Skeletons dance, I curse this day, |
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And the night when the wolves cry out, |
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Listen close and you can hear me shout. |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again, |
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I dont want to be buried in a pet sematary |
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I dont want to live my life again, oh, no, oh, no |
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I dont want to live my life again, oh, no, oh, oh |
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I dont want to live my life again, oh, no, no, no |
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I dont want to live my life again, oh, oh |
