Bizarre
Disgusting
Brutal
Rampage
We're horrified

I'm running out of rhymes
I'm running out of art
I'm running out of songs to sing
About this wicked world breaking my heart
I caught the smell of honey
[In] a tragedian landfill
But if the honey don't get me
I know the beehive will
Into the oven you go

I'm running out of lime
To put to rest the lyrics
I'm dripping dry on themes and dreams
To hobble with your walking stick
Who's that a-nibblin' at my house
The kids will answer the wind, the wind
Who's that a-blowin' on my sweet home
The kids will answer the wind, the wind
Into the oven you go
The wind
The wind
The wind
(It's just the wind)

Don't give me that, little pig
'Cause you know better by now
Not by the hair of your chin
I'll have to blow your house down (Good God almighty!)
How do you like it, how do you like it
Now you know now
The horror is in our hands
The hands that hold our hearts down
Into the oven you go
(Into the oven you go)

And that's the fever talking, honey
"I've come to fatten you up"
'Cause I'm an open book, my honey
Except for when the book is shut
Who's that a-nibblin' at my house
The kids will answer the wind, the wind
Who's that a-blowin' on my sweet home
The kids will answer the wind, the wind, the wind, the wind

Don't give me that, little pig
'Cause you know better by now
Not by the hair of your chin
I'll have to blow your house down, good God almighty!
How do you like it, how do you like it
Now you know now
The horror is in our hands
The hands that hold our hearts down
The beauty unbearable
We want to stretch it all out
The cripple cries out to walk
The songless sings their heart out, good God almighty!
How do you like it, how do you like it
Once you know now
The horror is in our hearts
The hearts that make us sing out
Into the oven you go

You have just judged yourselves!...​