There's a grove of trees inside [?]
Where children play, who've lost their way
As they succumb to nightmare dreams
Fill the air with silent screams
The land alive where the blood runs cold
As they have not, entered the fold
Joining the ranks in Elysium
Back to the earth from which they've come
They [?] games which makes them [?]
They have drawn up from below
They know that they'll never go
Back to a place adults call home
The ghouls and ghosts inhabit dolls
[?] inside the walls
Make the place with cobweb beds
The resting place for the undead
They shriek and moan and burn and slash
And creak and move and wail and nash
Place these thoughts inside your head
To make you wish you'd end up dead
You just might, and so beware
Of that green shroud that climbs the stairs
You're the thing on which it feeds
To fill its maw and sate its needs
[?] grinds your bones to meal
Turn your skull beneath the wheel
Six feet down is where you'll lay
As children laugh and children play
Children laugh and children play
Children laugh and children play