ED

Now hear the story of poor, lonely Ed
And how something was broken inside of his head
Late at night with shovel in hand
He'd dig through the dirt, the gravel, and sand

He'd pry open vaults and take what's inside
His love for the dead could not be denied
Mummified remains all thrown in a sack
Ed took them back home to his rickety shack

Drinking cheap whiskey, he'd talk to his mother
Who had been dead almost as long as his brother
He'd speak of his life, such a dark, strange journey
Into the world of taxidermy

Then one day, as he polished a bone
He decided to make some death of his own
But poor old Ed, he just had no guile
They caught him red handed, there was no denail
 

And now poor Ed spends his days in a cell
A padded, immaculate version of hell
But he never forgets his dance with the dead
That lonely old mama's boy we all call Ed