There's a house on a bleak New England lane Standing in contempt of our disdain Hidden beneath its aged floors Lies a best forgotten door That leads to Decrepid steps, wretched depths Deep horrors left unquestioned Perverted forms in gleeful scorn Of things human an dreverential Reptilian skins writhe in sin Forsake humanity for beastiality Sickening shapes, aberrations Intensified by generations Tongues flagellating, bodies undulating In an orgy of glorious depravity Perversions slithering, morals withering In an orgy of glorious depravity There's a house on a bleak New England lane Standing in contempt of our disdain Hidden beneath its aged floors Lies a best well forgotten door