There are few who deny

At what I do I am the best

For my talents are renound far and wide

When it comes to suprises

In the moonlit night

I excel without ever even trying



With the slightest little effort

Of my ghost-like 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 emptyness began to grow

There's something out there far from my home

A longing that I've ne-ver known



I'm the 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 Shakesperean quotations



No animal nor man can SCREAM like I can

With the fury of my re-ci-ta-tions

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 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 e-mpty tears....