The freshly interred corpse Greets with a rotten fragrance Sweet scent of death and decay Caressing the catacomb Ghastly face of bone Where her smile had been Ravished while she lived Desecrated in death Twisted thoughts, necrolust What she had best to offer Is now but a blackened hole No more pleasures of flesh Sick memories are stirring Through a black looking - glass Deep in the demented mind She still laughs with joy One final graven kiss From her imaginary lips Tormented chattering Echoes in the dark Her bones and a shotgun Laid on the wooden table Both barrels full of Satan's breath For the last twilight rite