I don’t believe in ghosts
Or things that I cannot see
But what scares me the most
Is that ghosts seem to believe in me
So when I climb the attic stairs
I always turn on the light.
I don’t want to be caught unawares
By things that go bump in the night.
I’m not superstitious,
but I’m not taking chances
the devil he dances
with those who are unaware
There is a story in my hometown.
They tell it on Halloween.
As the crescent moon went down.
A hand in front of your face could not be seen
Two brothers, aged twelve and thirteen
Heard a blood-chilling sound
Like a steam-driven zombie machine
Then they fell into a hole in the ground
I’m not superstitious,
but I’m not taking chances
the devil he dances
with those who are unaware
We live in enlightened times
Demons have been cast out
Reason suffuses our rhymes
But we are nursing this lingering doubt
Shadows conceal motion
In the corners of our eyes
Sometimes I get a great notion
Something’s yearning to materialize
I’m not superstitious,
but I’m not taking chances
the devil he dances
with those who are unaware
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