The garden calls me from the world I know,
Grave stones poking through the grass
Like rotten teeth in swollen gums, I wonder
What lies below, what else could push their way
Upwards, to grab at ankles as I pass.
Once at the door we’re always greeted by
A man unusually tall, stooping and groaning
Holding candles sagging in the night.
Pictures change to gruesome sights, as we walk
Towards the cars that drift through halls
Like silent hands that hold us safe.
We swoop through ballroom scenes with ghostly girls
Held in arms of ghoulish men and someone sat
At organ keys, playing something tabgo-like.
And into basements we will travel, where the dead
Were buried (maybe not quite dead when trapped
Inside the nailed up coffin box. Now they play
With people as the venture in, jigging to
A song we cannot hear with earthly ears.
And when the journey ends we jump back on
To terra firma with the help of girls
Dressed in high neck shirts and full length skirts,
Out into a bright lit day, so at odds
With the darkness we have come to know and love,
Blinking in a gift shop full of branded mugs
And T-shirts printed with the living dead.
We part with too much hard earned cash before
We head off to Space Mountain for
Another ride, another thrill, another world
To make us scream with pure delight.