I hear Him walking early morn He's outside and tending the corn, Some call him monster some calle him Death but we follow in his foot-steps with every breath, We are the childeren that live here He is our father we hold so dear, There are those who think He's insane but He gave us this place so free from pain, I want to know why no ones else can see that in the corn the childeren are free, Here in the corn there only one rule to traitors and outsiders are we crule, No ones comes here no one would dare even the thought could give them a scare, The corn is a haven but to those ill of will we all have one order and that order is kill, For who would whisper or dare to offened this place is our home in which we defend, I want to no why the people are so scared when they do to childeren what He never dared.