Heh. This one's for the beatniks.
With bony hand I hold my partner,
with soulless feet we cross the floor.
The music stops as if to answer
an empty knocking at the door.
It seems his skin was sweet as mango,
when last I held him to my breast.
But now we dance this grim fandango,
and will four years before we rest.
- From Tim Schaffer's Grim Fandango
with soulless feet we cross the floor.
The music stops as if to answer
an empty knocking at the door.
It seems his skin was sweet as mango,
when last I held him to my breast.
But now we dance this grim fandango,
and will four years before we rest.
- From Tim Schaffer's Grim Fandango