there are few who deny,,
at what i do i am the best
for my talents are renowned far and wide


when it comes to surprises on a moonlit night
i excell without ever even trying


with the slightest litte effort of my ghost lyke charm
i have seen grown men give out a shreek

with a wave of my hand and a well placed moan
i have swept the very bravest off their feet


but year after year
its the same routeen
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

and emptyness began to grow
thers something out there far from my home.
a longing that ive never know


im the master of fright and a demon of light
and ill scare you right out of your pants

to a guy in kentucky im mr. unlucky
and im know throughout england and france


and sence i am dead i can take off my head
to recite shakespearean quotations
no animal nor man

can scream lyke i can
with the fury of recitations


but who here would ever understand
that the pumpkin king
with the skeliton grin,,

would tire of his crown
if they only inderstood
hed give it all up

if he only could



oh theres 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