| Here I sit a vampire, and my piano.
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| The flames burn, glarringly higher.
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| And the eyes, that stare through the darkness,
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| though they have no form, there’s no need for alarm.
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| So burn.
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| So burn, burn the flames higher, and higher.
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| So burn, burn the flames never, to expire.
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| Here I sit a skeleton, and my organ.
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| The candles in my kettle all burn hellishly, hellish hell.
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| And the laughter, un-ending echoes through the haunted house,
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| a little Christmas spirit, ghostly haunting deadly spirit.
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| Every creature is stirring, even the mouse.
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| So burn.
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| Here I sit myself, at my instruments.
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| Here they sit, at their intruments.
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| And the music feels, and feels,
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| terrifies, horrifies, forever scares.
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| Children of the night, what music we make.
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| So burn. |