Doorsteps filled with hollow bodies
Heads cut open three-sixty-degrees
Smell of burnt candles lit up inside
The skin-carved grinning faces.

Kitchen covered in orange blood
Knives dicing the earthy flesh
The pots and ovens are steaming
All the choicest of parts.

Backyard decorated with guts
And spoiled meat left for the crows
The seeds scattered all over
Lying in a bed of dead hay.

Oh, what a happy day!
For the sweet tooth and high-spirited
But never the gray skies
That bore witness to the carnage.