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 There  few who'd deny, at what I do I am the best
  my talents are renowned far and wide
 When  comes to surprises in the moonlit night
 I excel without ever even 
 With the slightest little effort of  ghostlike charms
 I have  grown men give out a shriek
 With the wave of my hand, and a well-placed 
 I have swept the  bravest off their feet
 
 Yet year after year, it's the  routine
 And I grow so  of the sound of screams
 And I, Jack, the Pumpkin 
 Have grown so tired of  same old thing
 
 Oh,  deep inside of these bones
 An emptiness  to grow
 There's something out there, far  my home
 A longing that I've never 
 
 I'm a master of fright,  a demon of light
 And I'll  you right out of your pants
 To  guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky
 And I'm known throughout England  France
 
 And since I am dead, I can take  my head
 To  Shakespearean quotations
 No  nor man can scream like I can
  the fury of my recitations
 
 But who  would ever understand
 That  Pumpkin King with the skeleton grin
 Would tire of his crown,  they only understood
 He'd give it all up if he  could
 
  there's an empty place in my bones
 That calls out  something unknown
 The  and praise come year after year
  nothing for these empty tears