Under the arc of a weather stain boards
Ancient goblins, and warlords,
Come out the ground, not making a sound,
The smell of death is all around,
And the night when the cold wind blows
No one cares, nobody knows.
I don’t want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don’t want to live my life again,
I don’t want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don’t want to live my life again.
Follow victor to the sacred place
This ain’t a dream, I can’t escape
Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones,
Spirits moaning among the tombstones,
And the night, when the moon is bright,
Someone cries, something ain’t right.
I don’t want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don’t want to live my life again,
I don’t want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don’t want to live my life again.
The moon is full, the air is still,
All of the sudden I feel a chain,
Victor is grinning, flesh rotting a