The Dance of the Dead

When I was young, mother would say, Let me sing, and you'll be okay, And when I've got to be away, sing to yourself, and let it play. Then I heard a scream, in the dead of  night. I awoke to the ghost, of her sickly sight. Her face was paled, and her skin peeled back, Above her stood a man in black. I saw him salt her open wounds, Her arms and legs danced to no tune. Older now, but dreams are timeless,  Drunken,  stumbling home and dimeless. I see her face in my nightmares, I can't escape the lifeless stares. The only thing that numbs my pain, Is watching corpses go insane. I sing to myself as I cut, I spread their skin, removing guts. I salt their exposed nerves, like zombies in a trance, Their limbs contort and turn, oh how the lifeless dance. I plead for mercy, from anyone. I listen for god, but have found none. I watch them pray before they die, That's how I know it's all a lie. I promise if he answers me, I'll feel emotion when they plea. Rigor mortis hasn't yet set in, They're limbs still flail at my every whim. Some of them still moan and cry, They're vocal chords don't know they've died. The stench of waste still permeates, I've gotta say, I love the taste. Moaning when they defecate, Humming softly, while they shake. I salt their exposed nerves, like zombies in a trance, Their limbs contort and turn, oh how the lifeless dance.