Palido

He usually sleeps on a tombstone
And cultivates carnivorous plants
Once a month he stores his coffins
Worms and centipedes, toothless invertebrates

He never takes the sun, at dusk
He wanders his mansion half asleep
After dinner, he puts on a tunic
To converse with his spirits

Pale is his name, pale has bats in the garden
Pale like the sheets of the ghosts that live there

The collection falls into his basement
Two thousand types of foul bombs
Metal bed, tragic machines
To stretch his guests

In formaldehyde jars he has his victims
And mixes in the cresol
Magical formulas
With liters of alcohol and rare liquids
Snail horns, drops of acid

Pale is his name, pale causes panic in the neighborhood
Gloomy his house is gloomy
Without electricity in the city

He usually sleeps on a tombstone and cultivates
Carnivorous plants once a month he stores his coffins
Worms and centipedes, teeth and vertebrae

Pale is his name, pale has bats in the garden
Pale like the sheets of the ghosts
That live there
Pale is his name, pale causes panic in the neighborhood

Gloomy his house is gloomy without electric light
In the city