As darkness fallsIt casts a pallOver the cemeteryThey’ve locked the gatesI’ll have to waitIts getting very eerieI’ve never felt Alone with so manyForgotten soulsTheir families goneTime marches onI don’t believe in ghostsWhat’s that noiseAre they footsteps?The crunching of the leavesMy bad luck Has run amokIts hard for me to seeIts pitch black outI hear a shoutFrom the gate belowAn old lantern manLit by candleFrom…
My second song with Cello. All aboardThe Ghost Train SpecialPulling out of Station ZeroMorse Code TappingPistons RappingGuess it’s time for us to goDestination Is the futureWe will get there when we doMorse Code TappingPistons SlappingThe night air is coolBand aboardThis Haunted TrainPlaying sad songs from the pastMorse Code TappingPistons RattlingThrough a tunnel in the mountain passThere’s no lightAt the end of the tunnelOr in…
Some thingsCan’t be bought or soldLike this treeOf Autumn GoldLike a clockMarking timeOnce a yearThis gold we findThis gold we findIf we take the timeIf not, alasWe miss the sublime
The Thing in the AtticNeither Goddess or GodIt snorts and it gruntsAnd smells rather oddWe never go up thereWe leave it aloneIt frightens us nightlyIt’s low steady moanThey said it was hauntedWe didn’t believeWe thought what we wantedOur selves we deceived
In the basement I hear musicNo one’s down thereI hear noiseSomeone’s singingMore like moaningLike a bansheeHigh pitched voiceDescend the staircaseTurn on the lightThe sound has stopped nowNothing in sight
Radio TombstoneLate at nightHear her distant cryThrough the staticAnd the fadingSpooky Lullaby”Don’t sit underThe Apple TreeWith anyone else but me”It’s too late He’s found a new mateWhen you became deceased
SkelegramGlass InsulatorFood for ThoughtIncubatorOnly SentTo the DeadForelorn MessagesNever Were Read
Bob GhoulHad a young wifeUsed StrychnineTo try to take her lifeIn his hasteHis own cup he lacedHe caught it too lateHis own life he did takeTis advice for youKarma is the ruleDo unto othersOr end up a ghoul
There is a hidden staircaseIn the house up on the hillIts behind a pocket doorHaunted by a girl named LilVery few have gone beyond The door that quickly slidesVery few have seen Lil’s faceAnd how she flits and glidesThose who haveHave never returnedReturned to tell their taleThey climbed the stairs And turned to dustWhen Lil began to wail