Shall we dance upon the hollowed ground
as the moon cast shadows on the stones.
The dew drifts in and wraps around our
ankles and our bones.
We begin our midnight waltz
to the unheard music of our souls.
The beauty of the night lingers
as time begins to take its toll.
This dance, this horrible, beautiful dance
we all shall partake.
You can not out run time or out last
So, what better way to look at death then
in its gleaming eyes.
And throw yourself a party and do not
Dear Death, may I have this dance? For I do
not fear your coming.
I knew this day would come, and I shall dance
instead of running.
Death took a bow, and offered up his hand.
I graciously accepted and left the living land.
Some say life is a party, but I think
you have it wrong.
The party is in the dying, and dancing
all night long.