Well tonight you sit in our home   In a chair made of   Chainsawed fingers and bones   The ashes in the ash tray   Aren't from cigarettes   It's the chared remains   Of the family pet      The blood drips from your face   Now with my finger I take a taste   Granpa will be down soon   He's as fast as Jesse James and Cool Hand Luke   Now the cook is cooking up a stew   And the special ingredient is you   Stop your crying, don't make a fuss   You should be honored to be here with us   At this dead and breakfast      You know what they say   An apple a day   Won't keep the death away...