And so our wilted flower children
began their descent,
and drove off into the California night
with murderous intent
When they reached the house they'd chosen
as the target of their hate
they jumped the walls and killed a boy
the first of five to meet their fate

They climbed in through the window
armed with steak knives and a gun
and though one man lay dead outside the carnage'd just begun
Sebring was the next to die, shot and stabbed at Tex's hands
And Frykowski got the same when he turned and tried to run
The next to die was Folger, having slipped her captors' grasp
she ran out to the pool, but her time was fading fast
She was stabbed 28 times before the family were done
Then they turned on wounded Frykowski and gave him 51
The last to die was Sharon Tate, Roman Polanski's wife
Who in her final moments pled for her unborn child's life
And yet her pleas were made in vain, as Atkins looked into her eyes
saying “Bitch, I have no mercy for you, you're going to die”

And so assured that none inside the house escaped their clutch
They smeared Tate's blood across the door, the final morbid touch
The lone word “pig” in sanguine ink, but the violence'd just begun
for they came to do the devil's work, and the devil's work is never done

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