Thursday night is chicken night ,
when all is dark ,
you’re telephone rings at nine .
It rings and rings and rings .
You’re thoughts are kind ,
a helpful heart

For kindness is what it feeds on .
and spits you out like chicken bones ,
untill it’s feathers and blood are all you can see ,
how plesant the poultry!

It stalks the streets as daylight retreats ,
and neon lights are all aglow .

You’re phone rings again ,
then again ,
You pick it up,
You ask who’s there ?
It’s the chicken run that’s all .

You await a knock on you’re door ,
as you lie in you’re bed ,
In silence the clock strikes thee ,
then four .
For you’re heart thumps hard ,
you’re chest explodes ,
You’re blankets stinks in sweat .
For there is a knock on you’re door ,
You’re dreaming once more ,
You can’t tell night from day .


It’s Thursday night ,
It’s chicken night ,
don’t answer you’re phone,
don’t answer the door ,
It’s the chicken run once more.