• there are few who deny and what i do i am the best for my talents are renowned far and wide. When it comes to surprizes in a moon-lit night i exel without ever even trying. with the slightest-little effort with my ghost-like charms i have seen grown men give out a shriek. with a wave of my hand an a -well placed moan i have swept the vary bravest off they're 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 sam olf thing cry
    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 the master of fright and I'll scare you right out of your pants. To a guy i kentucky I'm mister Unlucky and i'm know throughout England and france. and scince i am dead i can take off my head to recite shakespearan qoutations NO ANIMAL NOR MAN, CNA SCREAM LIKE I CAN WITH the fury of my reciteations but who hear would ever understand that the pumpkin king with the skeletion grin. would tire of his crown, he'd give it all up if he only could
    ooohhh~ there's an empty place in my bones that calls for somthing unknown the fame and praise come year after year does nothing for these empty tears~