Skin, cold, silver, spine, it's like a mirror (faces)
Skin, cold, silver, spine, it's like a mirror (faces)
I met a girl, her name is Mary
She's Sharon Tate's unborn baby
(I think she's dead)
Oh yeah, yeah!
She's shooting brown, she's slamming caine
So many needles, so little pain
(I think she's dead)
Oh yeah, yeah!
She's naked to man, she's clothed to Jesus
She's a microscopic germ that's killing
(I think she's dead)
Oh yeah, yeah!
Well, I think she's dead
Oh yeah, yeah!
Well, I think-
Bad teenagers don't go to heaven, they get their wings
Torn up and they're thrown back to earth again
Lullaby, lullaby for the dead
Listen to the words unsaid
Lullaby for the dead
With the ground she's wed
Lullaby for the dead, dead, dead, dead
Lullaby for the dead, dead, dead, dead
Lullaby for the dead, dead, dead, dead
Lullaby for the dead!
Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!
Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!
Oh my God, I think that Mary
I think that she is... I think she's dead
Oh Lord
Oh God
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Skin, cold, silver, spine, it's like a mirror (faces)
Dead! Dead! Dead!
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