Have you ever thought about the dead and the way they rest
Has it ever crossed your mind that things aren't always the best
If you were six feet down in the dirt with not much meat on your carcass
Life's bloody crook when you aint got one, trapped in a wooden casket
Although being dead's not much fun, you've got at least one mate
I'm not talking about the idiot above or the other bloke down below
This mate of yours, he's a twisted soul, but he'll be there every night
With his demented gaze and rusty old shovel, he's come to say hello
At night he arrives with his bag of tricks
He's Arkon the grave robber
By the moonlight he digs the up the dirt
To say "how ya going brother"
He's Arkon the grave robber
Fukken Arkon the grave robber

Bronte, Waverly and big old Rookwood, all the dead are there
So many shriveled up korpses, it's a fukking nightmare
Arkon's got so many dead friends when he gets around
At the hour of midnight he'll start digging up the ground
Buried back in 666 it's a fukking long time since you were rotting
Never mind, Arkon will make a call - you're his mate, not forgotten
He digs through the dirt and opens your coffin, his face will give you a fright
Stone the fukken crows mate it's Arkon in the dead of the night!
At night he arrives with his bag of tricks
He's Arkon the grave robber
By the moonlight he digs up the dirt
To say "how ya going brother"
He's Arkon the grave robber
Fukken Arkon the grave robber
Although being dead's not much fun, you've got at least one mate
I'm not talking about the idiot above or the other bloke down below
This mate of yours, he's a twisted soul, but he'll be there every night
With his demented gaze and rusty old shovel, he's come to say g'day
"How ya going brother"
Fukken Arkon the grave robber
Arkon the grave fukken robber