Down in the graveyard where we have our tryst
|
The air smells sweet, the air smells sick
|
He never smiles, his mouth merely twists
|
The breath in my lungs feels clinging and thick
|
But I know his name, he's called Mr. D.
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And one of these days he's gonna set you free
|
Human skulls is hangin' right 'round his neck
|
The palms of my hands is clammy and wet
|
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Lord, I was dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
Dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
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Dancin', Lord, keep your hand off me
|
Dancin' with Mr. D., with Mr. D., with Mr. D.
|
|
Will it be poison put in my glass
|
Will it be slow or will it be fast?
|
The bite of a snake, the sting of a spider
|
A drink of Belladonna on a Toussaint night
|
Hiding in a corner in New York City
|
Lookin' down a fourty-four in West Virginia
|
|
I was dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
Dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
Dancin', Lord, keep your hand off me
|
Dancin' with Mr. D., with Mr. D., with Mr. D.
|
|
One night I was dancin' with a lady in black
|
Wearin' black silk gloves and a black silk hat
|
She looked at me longin' with black velvet eyes
|
She gazed at me strange all cunning and wise
|
Then I saw the flesh just fall off her bones
|
The eyes in her skull was burning like coals
|
Lord, have mercy, fire and brimstone
|
I was dancin' with Mrs. D.
|
|
Lord, I was dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
I was dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
Dancin', dancin', dancin' so free
|
|
Dancin', dancin'
|
|
-----------------
|
Dancing With Mr. D.
|
| Rolling Stones |
