Tombstone Soirée

Soirée. The ol' tombstone soirée.
There's a party at the disco. Ladies are free.
There's a bash south in Brighton. 
A posteriori.
Could take the tube up to Stratford where everything's gray.
Better than a funeral from the bad MDA.
I think I'll shoot another whiskey. Won't let it go to waste.
The flavour's a reminder that I drink it for the taste.
But I know where I'm welcome night and day.
Meet me in Holloway
Roam to Holloway
Go home to Holloway where the spectres play

It's a graveyard party 'til the night turns to day
I'd invite all my friends but they've all passed away
I'm drinking with the spiders
And dancing with the ghosts, ok?
The ol' tombstone soirée.

50 thousands head stones
What a wonderful reprieve
The epitaph is wasted on those who only grieve
I'm rollin' with the poets
Ya know...the ones who are deceased
I'm talking to myself cuz nobody hear speaks
Meet me in Holloway
Roam to Holloway
Go home to Holloway where the spectres play

It's a graveyard party 'til the night turns to day
I'd invite all my friends but they've all passed away
I'm drinking with the spiders
And dancing with the ghosts, ok?
The ol' tombstone soirée.

It's a graveyard party 'til the night turns to day
I'd invite all my friends but they've all passed away
I'm drinking with the spiders
And dancing with the ghosts, ok?
The ol' tombstone soirée.

It's a graveyard party 'til the night turns to day
I'd invite all my friends but they've all passed away
If a little bit of darkness is headed your way it's okay
At the ol' tombstone soirée.
The ol' tombstone soirée.
The ol' tombstone soirée.