[VERSE 1] She wore his jacket to the funeral, buttoned wrong, his scent still on the sleeve. Everybody came to tell her how sorry they were she had to grieve. She played along, said all the right things, smiled when somebody cried. Then slipped away through the kitchen door with his photograph inside. [PRE-CHORUS] The moon was hanging crooked, the whole damn street was bare. She put his favourite record on and danced like he was there. [CHORUS] Dance, dance macabre, dance until the morning comes. Dance, dance macabre, like he's still the only one. Round and round this empty room, laughing at the chandelier. Dance, dance macabre— if he can't come home, she'll meet him here. [VERSE 2] She left two glasses on the table, one for her and one for him. Started talking 'bout their stupid fights, how she'd never let him win. She told him all the gossip he would've laughed to hear. Then raised her glass and said, “Baby... why aren't you still here?” [PRE-CHORUS] The record started skipping, but she wouldn't let it stop. She danced across the carpet until the needle dropped. [CHORUS] Dance, dance macabre, dance until the morning comes. Dance, dance macabre, like he's still the only one. Round and round this empty room, laughing at the chandelier. Dance, dance macabre— if he can't come home, she'll meet him here. [POST-CHORUS] Left foot— for the life we had. Right foot— for everything we lost. Spin once— don't look back. Spin twice— forget the cost. [VERSE 3] By three o'clock she's barefoot, lipstick staining on the glass. She's telling little secrets to a photograph she has. She knows he isn't listening. She knows he's really gone. But grief hits different when you put the right damn song on. [BRIDGE] She said, “I'm not crying...” Then she laughed. “I'm dancing.” And for a second, she could swear he was holding her again. [BUILD] One more song. One more spin. One more night to let him in. One more song. One more spin. Don't let the silence win. [FINAL CHORUS] Dance, dance macabre, dance until the morning comes. Dance, dance macabre, like he's still the only one. Round and round this empty room, laughing at the chandelier. Dance, dance macabre— if he can't come home, she'll meet him here. Dance, dance macabre, don't let anybody see. Dance, dance macabre— he's still dancing inside of me. [OUTRO] The record stopped. She didn't. Not tonight.
