This isn’t your grandma’s ghost tails

Your grandma’s tales were always weak,

but now they’re old and harmless too

A cat’s meow would strike more fear than all the ghastly tales she spun.

Your grandma’s tales are much too sweet.

They wouldn’t scare a mother’s child

or put a chill down any spine

that watched the Munsters on TV.

If you think your grandma scared you

with all her ghostly tales of old,

how creepy goblins in the woods

used moldy bones for picking teeth

and slobbered while they chewed on flesh

that once belonged to folks she knew

but now filled gullets and made them fat

then you have yet to live in fear.

Your grandma’s tales are much too sweet.

They wouldn’t scare a mother’s child

or put a chill down any spine

that watched the Munsters on TV.

Listen! Can you hear the children?

They’re children of the night who sing

from deep inside the jackal’s gut

where they now call for you my friend.

Just come to my old creepy house

and listen to my screaming walls

that breathe with tales of shattered souls

and look right through your frightened eyes.

Your grandma’s tales are much too sweet.

They wouldn’t scare a mother’s child

or put a chill down any spine

that watched the Munsters on TV.

Listen! Can you hear the children?

They’re children of the night who sing

from deep within the jackal’s gut

where they now call for you my friend.