Danse Macabre

Love, won't you dance when I'm gone?
This breaking-out-the-black is bad enough
In mid-July
You'll find me in the air
I guess I'm use to being tossed around
Little luchador, the big-brothers' rag doll
(And) not hard to find
In a casket barely still
Way up on shoulders' hill

Do we still have a chance to save the best for last?
Like that boutonniere I've tried to petrify
Since my brother took his vows
Love, help me look alive
There's nothing we can't do
When I count, alone, on you

Spare yourself the old-fashioned lines
"A son, survived by none. He worked full-time"
I don't know why we didn't think
To spend more on the brass section

Do we still get our chance to save the best for last?
The last I heard our song was in a cover band
Played to death, to no one
Boys, play it four more times
To the beat of her heart
And from the very start...

Do we end up alone?

Even if I knew, I'd only look for you
Even with a million eyes
How am I to find you, baby, every time?
When I wrestle to float
What am I to do
But count, alone, on you?

Now I can only hope
You would sing my part
If I'm the first to go
Just don't let it be a psalm
"When the Saints Go Marching In"?
Can't they pick another one?
Don't you want to feel alive
Down in New Orleans
While the band warms up "Take Five"?
Now, my love
You're getting up