Down by the old cemetary where the presidents rotdown by the tombstones beyond the moaning gates where the old men waitwell-dressed and underground.
Yes the black buzzards smile.
Oh yesthe gates moan. Calling for me to rescue. They all weep into my bones.
Summer dress.
Handsome smile.
Lovers lips.
Ah her cure.
The moans calling her to rescue.
There she isenter Simone.
I swear we re all there.
Right therewe moancalling her to rescue.
We pray you never leave usour singing somber mistress they said.

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