Everyone in this forest is going to the festival
We are joyous jesters, We are folk of silent groves!
I’ll take you where the bloodred lights hang
Like foul lanterns from the boughs
Eager to become your greatest fears!

Aren’t you afraid of the blackness?
Aren’t you terrified of moving shadows?
Your house is dark, and you’re alone
And by the way we stole your riches.

We are the maelstrom that’s been tearing lands apart
We are the eyes you can sense in the forest
Everything around you goes bump in the night
Turn around and count to ten, we’ll never go away!

All my friends have iron pikes
And spirits darker than the grave
All my inhibitions died a thousand years ago
I fought fire with fire and I emerged with bloody victory
Smeared across this cap upon my head.
Isn’t this a strange place for hide and seek
When you lose your way in wicked trees
And a million hands seem to grasp and claw
Dragging you back to face your fears

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