Rosabelle
Prom Threat
My name is Rosabelle, I was a Texas whore
Dispatched from this sweet world at the age of twenty-four
He was an evil man, beard like twisted wire
Bowie knife at the hips, grin full of sick desire
He filled me with such fear, I haven’t left this place
For over a hundred years, I’ve occupied this space
The home I worked and died in is now a music hall
Where young folks come to drink, and dance to rock 'n' roll
The ladies fix their hair, they barely know I’m here
Even when they squint real hard when looking in the mirror
I miss having a body, though I never grew old
I’m tired of hangin’ round these stupid girls, and the bathroom is awful cold