He entered the room With a look on his face
That was not quite his own, That was not quite his face
His skin was pulled tight, his eyes were aglow
With the sad little knowledge, of where we all go
He wound up all red and dead and orange and black
He grabbed the first man, who had broken his stare
Then he proposed that they both go there
With nothing to do, and a need to appease
The man with the stare agreed readily
So they set off with a young native guide
To show them the place they eventually died
He wound up all red and dead and orange and black