dine with the dead, i welcome you all
music from the lark, the orchestra of thy soul
livening our humid heart, pleasure our stroll
tonight, let's leave our corpse, glide down to the hall.
painted the ceiling on tints of sad blue
ornate dusts of gems, sparkle, glitter, brilliant hue.
lavish clouds conceal there perfect symmetry
envious on the attention we bestow upon thee.
quaint scenery perfected with our attendance
the ceilings the gems all decor our feast
tonight we oblivious to sadness, and we mingle our glance
and free our laughter, our spirit, we once ceased.
to some this ball might be frivolous
a collection and dine of the most lamenting,
but to the dead, this gathering is utmost pious,
the rebirth of the hearts deprived with joying.
and so faces powdered like that of a dead
resigned the warmth of life in a cold coffin,
welcome, for we shall drink wine and eat bread
and let our soul free to its jubilant soarin'.
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