We'll turn you into muffins, the best there ever were.
So tasty and delicious, no hint of bone or fur.
They'll ask what we put in them, but we will never tell
The dirty little secret of the muffins that we sell.
We'll come before the sunrise when you're asleep in bed.
We'll cut you into pieces, but not what's in your head.
That's where you have the dirty part you use to read our minds,
So we'll leave it in the forest for the animals to find.
We'll mix you with banana and other things like that,
And take the bits we didn't use and feed them to the cat.
We'll bake them in the oven until they're done just right,
Then cover them with icing in a lovely shade of white.
Beneath the many flavors they might notice something wrong,
But we'll tell them it's secret and they should move along,
And they'll never figure out what we really put inside:
The tiny little pieces of one who rightly died.