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 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 would 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...