Mrs. Payton asks the class, "What do we all want to be?"
When I proudly say "ghost hunter", no one laughs
It's 1983 and my training has begun
I know how the Fox sisters summoned Mr. Splitfoot
I've read about Borley's lovelorn Nun
Scratching fanny off Cock Lane has made me giggle
And I've reviewed the Enfield evidence
But results are inconclusive
And I've packed a kit like Harry Price's
But minus the bowl of mercury
But Splitfoot was a trick
Cock Lane was a lie
Borley was a meme
Enfield was a prank
And maybe all we do is die
It's 1987 and my investigation's underway
The doorframes are strung with low thread
A concealed dictaphone silently records
And the carpet is sprinkled with a layer of talc
To reveal any human footprints
But there's nothing to report
All phenomena ceases under observation
And it seems the room's no longer haunted
And why does mum suppress a smile
As she demands I get the hoover?
Splitfoot was a trick
Cock Lane was a lie
Borley was a meme
Enfield was a teenage prank
And all we do is die
Now it's 2025 and a eulogy has ended
Time for the sandwiches, tea, and sausage rolls
We walk upon the necrosol with history beneath us
As the shadow on the sundial perseveres
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
