Jack Skellington

There are few who’d 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 nightI 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 feetYet 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 thingOh, 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 knownI’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 FranceAnd 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 recitationsBut 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 couldOh, 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 strong