Tiptoe, by the chainsaws, and the bonesaws,
Past the big knives, near the willow tree,
Come tiptoe, by the chainsaws, with me.
Tear off someone’s facemask, God! it’s their face! No, its not a mask.
Come tiptoe, by the chainsaws, With me.
Tiptoe, here in Texas, by the chainsaws, on a moonlit night,
With Grampa, And Gunnar, heck, the whole family,
Come tiptoe, by the chainsaws, with me.
Come now, let me hold you, as you take your final breath by me,
Come tiptoe, by the chainsaws, with me.
Sounds like a pleasant excursion.