| Under the arc of a weather stain boards
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| Ancient goblins, and warlords
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| Come out of the ground, not making a sound
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| The smell of death is all around
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| And the night when the cold wind blows
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| No one cares, nobody knows
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| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
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| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
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| I don’t want to live my life again
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| Follow Victor to the sacred place
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| This ain’t a dream, I can’t escape
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| Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones
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| Spirits moaning among the tombstones
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| And the night, when the moon is bright
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| Someone cries, something ain’t right
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| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
|
| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
|
| I don’t want to live my life again
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| The moon is full, the air is still
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| All of a sudden I feel a chill
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| Victor is grinning, flesh rotting away
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| Skeletons dance, I curse this day
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| And the night when the wolves cry out
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| Listen close and you can hear me shout
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| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
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| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| I don’t want to be buried in a Pet Sematary
|
| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| Oh no, oh no
|
| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| Oh no, oh no
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| I don’t want to live my life again
|
| Oh no no no
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| I don’t want to live
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| Not again |