On All Hallows' Eve.

The boy at home alone, whistles and hums.
He plays and he laughs, and all day has fun.
Never realising the evil beneath him, under floor boards and flower beds.
Daemons and ghouls, witches and wizards, and zombies with no heads.
For a year they waited, and not a sound they made.
Under ground, in trees and in coffins they laid.
But soon they will rise up, and take over this land.
And none shall suspect it, least of all the boy with the lollipop in his hand.
On all hollows eve he shall put on his costume in delight.
Unaware of the terrors that go bump in the night.
But as the clock strikes twelve, and the moon reaches its peak.
The monsters and freaks shall pour out from their tombs, with only the faintest of creeks. Comatose from a sugar rush, they boy is in his bed.
While shadows move and creep, underneath his bed.
His eyes stay shut, away in a dream.
While the daemons take him away, where no one can hear him scream.
Every year on this unholy anniversary, it's always the same.
When the terrors of the night rise up, and the innocent get taken in vain.