Up against my neighbor’s house
In lovely late October
I know he’s hanging out
Strings of bright orange
Lights along the roof-line
Turning his yard into a crypt
The decorations of death for his
Annual Halloween party
When the souls of the dead enter
Carrying their own heads
And are laughed at and mocked
He doesn’t invite me the devil
But comes to warn me of the noise
It will all be over by three o’clock
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