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He's coming home. (shhhhh)
October wind is blowing cold
The story of Haddonfield is getting old
But the shadow is stretching down the street
To the rhythm of your heavy heartbeat
You can't run,
you can't hide
(no escape)
Something is twisted
deep inside
Join the cult of Michael Myers
Burning bright in the dark campfire
Behind the mask, the shape remains
Running cold through all our veins (the shape!)
Step by step, he doesn't run
The butcher's knife is reflecting the sun
A faceless fear that you can't escape
Welcome to the cult of the shape
You can't run, you can't hide (no escape) Something is twisted
deep inside
Join the cult of Michael Myers
Burning bright in the dark campfire
Behind the mask, the shape remains
Running cold through all our veins (the shape!)
He never
dies. He never
stops. (never!)
October
wind... (shhhhh)