Sorrow, contempt, revulsion consume you
Seek out the witch that lives in the swamp
Thick, sour fog, vines gloom and moss
Her face leathered, wrinkled
By hundreds of years
Exhume the child's body
From the pumpkin patch
A tortured spirit
To harvest your vengeance
It possesses you
Becomes you
A demon creature,
Looming high in a tree
Long, clawed fingers and
Vein shredding teeth
Vacant, opaque eyes
With these you see
Possessed by blood magic
Only your death will return
Pumpkinhead to the ground
Yet, as you rot
He waits

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