There's a grove of trees inside [?] Where children play, who've lost their way As they succumb to nightmare dreams Fill the air with silent screams The land alive where the blood runs cold As they have not, entered the fold Joining the ranks in Elysium Back to the earth from which they've come They [?] games which makes them [?] They have drawn up from below They know that they'll never go Back to a place adults call home The ghouls and ghosts inhabit dolls [?] inside the walls Make the place with cobweb beds The resting place for the undead They shriek and moan and burn and slash And creak and move and wail and nash Place these thoughts inside your head To make you wish you'd end up dead You just might, and so beware Of that green shroud that climbs the stairs You're the thing on which it feeds To fill its maw and sate its needs [?] grinds your bones to meal Turn your skull beneath the wheel Six feet down is where you'll lay As children laugh and children play Children laugh and children play Children laugh and children play