The freshly interred corpse
 Greets with a rotten fragrance
 Sweet scent of death and decay
 Caressing the [bad word]  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