The pilgrims dancing in the moonlight The blades are eventually sharpened The first offspring were decapitated Within seconds Heads were a-flyin' through the corn Blood and oats for breakfast, said mary-lou A grin on her sad and mangled Skull. (crushed with nice blows!) I like your charred ankles You can't run, can you? No, I bleed on the fearless And then I laugh Brendan screamed, mary coughed Blood oozed from beastore's nose Brendan cried triumphantly Mary died Oh, why is it that we crave for death In the eyes of the goat? The goat will die Yes, it is true, he will die And I will fucking stick the Spear of horror Through him Blood, blood, guts