Tim Cohen - He Must Be Dead

Place your wine glass on his head
If he ain't dancing, he must be dead.
Release the scorpion
Fill him with morphine.
Talk about war things
Fill him up with dread.

Play him a beat that mocks his heart
Crack your glass whip, give him start.
Show him a mirror and chop off his head
If he ain't dancing, he must be dead.

Daylight, moonlight, get right, son of a nun
Stand alone, moonrise, bone white candlelight
Stay light, moonlight, get right, son of a monk
bone white candlelight moonlight

Wave your cape until he sees red
If he ain't dancing, he must be dead
Dip his hands in molten lead.
Implore him to battle his demons instead

Give him a bottle of liquid God.
Make him drink until he's full to the top
Then place a curse upon his head
and lay the devil in his bed

Daylight, moonlight, get right, son of a nun
Stand alone, moonrise, bone white candlelight

Why won't his feet paint moons on the floor
or trace a maze through the dungeon door?
A ragged ghost-the stuff of lore!
If he ain't dancing, there's nothing more
Nothing more

Place your wine glass in his hand
If he ain't dancing, he must be damned
Release the papers
Fill him with vapor
Talk about saviors and fill him up with dread.
If he ain't dancing, he must be dead.

Written by:
Timothy Cohen

Publisher:
Lyrics © SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB.

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