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 dollars From your desiccated eyes 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 jewelry are pilfered with glee Ghouls are what we are and will forever be 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