Mask of the Red Death The light lurid through the stained glass ¹ Shines on each of seven chambers We waltz like puppets to the fiddle And pause a moment when the great clock chimes Some wine will drown a froggy throat Inside safe we think behind theses gates Too much like a coffin for my tastes Oh well...pour me some wine Then one mask, you could almost feel its gaze Uncouth even by the standards of the day Like dried skin pulled over a skull And it would not heed the commands of our master And so he gave chase with a drawn knife in hand To the red western room he followed the unknown man Just a scream as he turned around And our master lay broken red face on the ground They tore off his red mask they tore off his clothes And we stood there aghast at the nothing exposed And we fell one by one with the clock's second hand It only stopped with the last standing man

1 Based on an Edgar Allan Poe story.

Copyright American Sinner