there are few who'd deny
at what i do i am the best
for my talents are renowned far and wide
when it comes to surprises
in the moonlit night
i e cel without ever even trying
with the slightest little
effort of my ghostlike charms
i have seen grown men give out a shriek
with the wave of my hand
and a well placed moan
i have swept the very
bravest off their feet
yet year after year
it's the same routine
and i grow so weary of
the sound of screams
and i jack
the pumpkin king
have grown so tired
of the same old thing
oh somewhere deep inside of these bones
an emptiness began to grow
there's something out
there far from my home
a longing that i've never known
i'm a master of fright
and a demon of light
and i'll scare you
right out of your pants
to a guy in kentucky i'm mister unlucky
and i'm known throughout
england and france
and since i am dead i
can take off my head
to recite shakespearean quotations
no animal nor man can scream like i can
with the fury of my recitations
but who here would ever understand
that the pumpkin king
with the skeleton grin
would tire of his crown
if they only understood
he'd give it all up if he only could
oh there's an empty place in my bones
that calls out for something unknown
the fame and praise come year after year
does nothing for
these empty tears
