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 in the moonlit night I excel without ever even trying With the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charm I have seen grown men give out a shriek With a wave of my hand and a well placed moan I have swept the very bravest off their feet Yet year after year its 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 Theres something out there, far from my home A longing that Ive never known 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 Mister Unlucky And Im 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 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
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 20:57:02 +0000
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