Pumpkinhead
Look, listen, hear my plea.
Each moment, everyday,
And what you see before you now,
Look, listen, hear my plea.
Each moment, everyday,
Touch here inside of me.
Feel squirming? It's maggot grief.
Soul swallowed by sorrow's thief.
a little more gets ripped away
'til little's left except decay.
these burning eyes, this tangled brow,
it's just a rotting pumpkin head.
An empty shell of hate and dread
collapsing in upon itself.
In waves too dark for someone else
to want to swim, and so I turn
away from life because it hurts.
Touch here inside of me.
Feel squirming? It's maggot grief.
Soul swallowed by sorrow's thief.
a little more gets ripped away
'til little's left except decay.
Notes:
Unreleased; according to Chris, this song dates back to the Rise era and was played live a few times, but never recorded in the studio. Presumably, this means that the song was written in 1987 or 1988.
In mid-2003, Chris recorded an "unplugged" version of this tune in his basement.
Chris wrote the lyrics.