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?