The Masquerade

There's blood on the walls
 On the chairs, on the floors
 And the dancers should be quarantined
 And the doorman departs after stealing a kiss
 His lips curl into something obscene
 And the dresses and gowns look like Dracula's sink
 And the band's only playing one tune
 And the king to the queen
 Is nowhere to be seen
 Having gone out to howl at the moon
 Put gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade
 Put gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade
 And there's eyes in the punch
 And there's somebody's lunch
 In a puddle next to the dead bouquets
 The host is aghast as the compare at last
 Thinks of something offensive to say
 And the waiters hold platters of P45's
 As their pockets are robbed of the air
 And the masks are more kind than the faces behind
 And nothing looks holy in there
 Put your gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade
 Put gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade
 Put gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade
 Put gold in your pocket
 Jump into the river
 Sharpen your teeth for the masquerade