Hang in the sky, hang in the sky!
While your pale lids tremble and I,
Your Executioner, will light
A cigar not knowing the brand.
I raise my cup to thirsty lips,
I am an old-fashioned ghost.
This wreckage that you see can drift,
From place to place without concern.
A ping-pong ball over Battlefield Earth,
The lighthouse at the river-mouth;
A willow-wisp goes forth to deceive,
Down this staircase lies tomorrow.
His feet are still above your head,
He was another Necromancer.
Hang in the sky, hang in the sky!
Moon-shaker of Never Flying.
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