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Well tonight you sit in our home In a chair made of Chainsawed fingers and bones The ashes in the ash tray Aren't from cigarettes It's the chared remains Of the family pet The blood drips from your face Now with my finger I take a taste Granpa will be down soon He's as fast as Jesse James and Cool Hand Luke Now the cook is cooking up a stew And the special ingredient is you Stop your crying, don't make a fuss You should be honored to be here with us At this dead and breakfast You know what they say An apple a day Won't keep the d**h away...