)

White on white translucent black capes
Back on the rack … Bela Lugosi’s dead.

The bats have left the bell tower / The victims have been bled
Red velvet lines the black box / Bela Lugosi’s dead…

Bela Lugosi’s dead  –
Undead, undead, undead…

The virginal brides file past his tomb / Strewn with time’s dead flowers
Bereft in deathly bloom / Alone in a darkened room: The Count

Bela Lugosi’s dead… Bela Lugosi’s dead... Bela Lugosi’s dead…
(Undead, undead, undead…)

Lets hear it for 80’s proto-Gothic bands. Yes, I know – this is lowbrow poetry…
seems kinda silly 30 years later. But I like the  Reggae-Dub rimshots
and the freaky-spooky vibe. Sort of a funereal Bossa-Nova going on…
(I had this huge poster of Bela Lugosi below on the wall of my bedroom as a kid!)

Pure Poetry.  Every last word of it.  Yup.