Could this place be hallowed ground
A place where cries unblessed abound

Beneath my feet in unmarked graves
Lie cold and still unwilling slaves

Proud of all the work I've done
Never again will I be stung

Labored at night by candlelight
Planted fair maidens and harlots alike

Why they love me I cannot decide
No breath within them I must confide

I visit them often when I am depressed
Comb their hair and help them dress

They all seem dumb stricken
For alll they do is sit and listen

Now my ladies seem quite feeble
Love the chance to meet new people

I think the night shall call again
Maybe you could be my friend
 
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