Lyrics Slap-O-Lant - Mr. Yote

All around the hallows
The smack of the bones hit
All the bugs boogie
And walk in the right temp
All them ghouls risen
And raising a sure bet
That this how we holler
If given the moons lit
Glowing from the collar
To cover the hue set
Clapping with the palm if
The pallet of fumes shed
All upon the rubble
The kettles and spoons lift
So when we step footing
All them skellies know to break down on em like

No don't kick back too long
In the middle of the
Mist rolling deep with fog
Now fellow see

These arms rise up from fall
All up from the cement and gone
And never should we have to
Lay rest if we want to be

But well they know
I'm never sloppy with the spit
Brought up rather proper
I'm an awful sorta scent
Brother try to talk and tell me
"Huey get a grip!"
But often I don't bother
Paying any sort of mind but
I must try to
Refrain tossed fits
Mommy's little monster
In the purest sorta of sense and
Probably I've been rotted
In the royal sorta sit
Much to often to be walking
With your oddly ordered grip so

No don't kick back too long
In the middle of the
Mist rolling deep with fog
Now fellow see

These arms rise up from fall
All up from the cement and gone
And never should we have to
Lay rest if we want to be