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Corpses in the backyard,
Corpses from the world,
I take them late at night,
And shove them in the ground.
Flowers don't grow now,
The feet stick out the ground.
So I get my pot and eat them all up.
Corpse food on the run.
A meal is never far,
I know I shall not starve.
If I keep them in my yard,
I can eat them all year round.
I like the smell they make,
Their dead flesh burn and peel,
They make me oh so hungry.
Till I gobble them all down.
Sometimes they keep on moving,
So I grab my trusty shovel,
A few swift wacks,
Puts em right back.
If you saw my backyard,
You would be suprised.
The next time they see you,
You'll be burried alive.
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