No Such Thing as Ghosts

Lyrics We carved our names in pumpkin light And dared the dark to start a fight The house stood black against the sky With one lit window, burning bright We crossed the porch and heard it creak A chill slipped underneath my cheek You grinned and said, “It’s all pretend” Then heard a voice say, “Come on in” The front door swings without a hand Cold blue light crawls up the land You laugh and say, “It’s just the breeze” Then something whispers through the keys We came to prove the dark was empty We came to laugh and leave by ten But every hallway bends behind us And every door leads back again There’s no such thing as ghosts, you said As shadows climbed the staircase There’s no such thing as ghosts, you said With panic on your face The walls are breathing, floorboards moan The windows show us nowhere There’s no such thing as ghosts— Then why can’t we escape this house? The clock strikes twelve, then strikes it twice A mirror gives us bad advice Our reflections stay behind With hollow eyes and crooked smiles A flock of bats bursts from the hall The portrait turns to watch us all You grab my sleeve, I grab the light But every bulb goes out tonight We came to prove the dark was empty We came to laugh and leave by ten Now footsteps follow just behind us And circle round the room again here’s no such thing as ghosts, you said As shadows climbed the staircase There’s no such thing as ghosts, you said With panic on your face The walls are breathing, floorboards moan The windows show us nowhere There’s no such thing as ghosts— Then why can’t we escape this house? The front door’s there, we run for it The handle turns, the lock won’t quit A voice calls out from somewhere near: “Stay for the party, stay right here” The candles flare, the curtains fly A hundred pale hands wave goodbye We tumble out into the dawn— But hear that old house laughing on There’s no such thing as ghosts, you said As morning filled the driveway There’s no such thing as ghosts, you said Then asked me not to look your way A muddy footprint marks your coat A cold handprint’s on mine There’s no such thing as ghosts— So why’s that house still on our minds? The moon hangs crooked over Maple Street The front door swings in the autumn breeze We swear we’ll never go inside— But next Halloween, we’ll try.