Chronic Halloween Syndrome

Twenty-four seven, three-sixty-five
I look in the mirror, and I see horror
What the creator gave me makes me hoot
'Cause my Halloween costume is my birthday suit
No make up, no fangs, no white sheets
Every day I'm ready to go out on the street
The boys they run whenever I am near
The girls they scream in squeamish fear

Witches, gremlins, splatter guts and gore
Burnings at the cross and chambers of torture for dirty little whores
Chainsaw massacres and voodoo dolls raise a hair
But nothing can beat
The scare when I yell trick or treat!

Abominable cannibals, severed heads and toes
Man-eating monkeys and circus freak shows
Walk the plank swarming with killer ants
Never-ending nightmares of David Bowie in tight pants
Nothing will shake you and shock you more
Than the day I come knocking at your door!

Scrape your skin with iron combs
And for dessert a bath of acid
Spluttering, gurgling, 'til your mouth foams
Sickly sweet pleasure, devilish delight
I'm sorry dear, did I give you a fright?



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