Inhibitions fade this night in the fall;
Night of the “living & dead” dance balls;

For the Vampires, Zombies and dead presidents that crawl;
Eulogies that are sung for the stakes and the mauls; And the cross itself;

Sitting by pumpkins, teenagers smoke it all;
Then end up T.P’ing the old man’s walls; And the dilapidated old house he lives in;

And apples-candied and frosted and warm;
Tear through windows of houses they came from;

Incestuous reapers of the harvest they walk;
On sugar-highs of chocolate and lsd for the Goths;

Necrophiliacs naked, fornicate on my grave;
Scared and horny while I dance in their rave.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar