Deep in the playground
I spotted you
A little child
By the age of two
Sitting on a bench
I watch your every move
Thinking of how
I will slaughter you
I see you
and all of your friends
Thinking of the fresh meat
I will attend
I get in my van
And i drive close
Killing the ones
Who loved you the most
Taking you home
In my picnic basket
Once your dead
You'll need no casket
I'll take you home
For a mid-night feast
This kindergarden massacre
Will not cease