I see the fire I see the pitchforks
I see the little monsters burt skin like roasted pork
They come through the closet door
They crawl through the knotholes in the floor
They cackle and giggle
They wiggle and squirm
The little red tails move like spined worms
The Blood red eyes
And bloody knives
They run all through the town
Running here, and all around
Can you see them can you see them too?
I think the little mean one ate my shoe.
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