The Sins Of Many

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