Dead things are what we adore,
Gut chomping fiends that get snockered on gore
In boneyards we prefer to dine
A baby, our dinner; black blood is our wine
Breaking open caskets to grab a bite to eat
Ravenously slobbering on mummified meat
The maggots in your skull
are a gustable surprise,
We'll steal the silver dollers
from your desiccated eyes
Chorus-
We are the things that go bump in the night
We are the shamblers that scurry from sight
We are bloodthirsty and graveyards we rule
We'll pick your bones clean because we are Ghoul
With Hatchets and razors we aim to get a head
Grinding your bones to make our bread
Gold teeth and jewelery are pilfered with glee
Ghouls are what we are and will forever be
