[Verse 1] Rain again. Of course it rains. Mud up to my ankles, aching in my veins. Family stayed till nearly nine, Some people got no respect for another man’s time. Fresh stiff down in number eight, Nice gold teeth, but I had to wait. Widow kept crying beside the stone— Lady, he’s dead. time to go home. [Pre-Chorus] I got expenses. I got needs. all my time digging holes and raking leaves. And if a dead man’s got no use for what he’s got, I see no reason why I should not. [Chorus] GRAVEYARD RATS! Always taking what is mine! GRAVEYARD RATS! Beat me to it every time! It’s the rain! It’s the mud! It’s the families! It’s bad luck! Everybody’s got it out for poor old Mason— GRAVEYARD RATS! Greedy little fucks. [Verse 2] Doctors complain the bodies ain’t fresh, Students want cheap but they want the best(sheesh). shovel broke, Gold price down, And somebody’s been asking questions in town. I never hurt anybody living— That ought to count for something, I’m thinking. I just take a little bit instead, A little bit here, no use to the dead. And teeth are teeth. They don’t need ’em. [Pre-Chorus] Then I hear that scratching underneath, Little thieves getting rich off me. Drag the whole damn stiff in one of their caves— They're getting bigger and they're getting brave [Chorus] GRAVEYARD RATS! Always taking what is mine! GRAVEYARD RATS! Beat me to it every time! It’s the rain! It’s the mud! It’s the families! It’s bad luck! Everybody’s got it out for poor old Mason— GRAVEYARD RATS! Greedy little fucks. [Verse 3] Saw those cufflinks going underground, Pearl stickpin worth twenty pounds. Any sensible man would’ve let it go— But twenty pounds is twenty pounds. So I followed that bastard into the dirt, Ruined my trousers, tore my shirt. Knees all bloody, back gone bad— This is exactly the kind of week I’ve had. Then something bit me. Then something moved. Then something dead came crawling through. And I’d like to point out, before we proceed— NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE HAPPENED IF PEOPLE WEREN’T SO GODDAMN GREEDY. [Bridge] Tunnel too tight! Can’t turn around! Rats behind! Dead thing coming down! Gun won’t fire! Light going dim! Whole damn cemetery closing in! I DID MY JOB! I PAID MY DUES! I NEVER GOT A GODDAMN BREAK! ...except for all the graves I robbed. That’s different. [Final Chorus] GRAVEYARD RATS! Always taking what is mine! GRAVEYARD RATS! Should’ve known they’d get me sometime! It was the rain! It was the mud! It was the tunnel! It was bad luck! Everybody had it out for poor old Mason— GRAVEYARD RATS! Hear ’em scratching through the box! GRAVEYARD RATS! Getting closer— DON’T YOU STOP! [Outro] Five feet of dirt. No room to move. No air left. Nothing to do. And Mason’s final thought, as the scratching filled the dark: This cemetery really ought to hire some decent fucking help.
