cried the ghost with the most.
No one comes to visit me,
though I'm the perfect host.
I decorate with cobwebs,
sweep the spiders under the rug,
Yet no one ever offers me
a kind word or a hug.
I don't know what the reason is.
I don't know what could cause it,
'Cause I always, yes I always
keep my skeletons in the closet.
Sure, I may look scary
but if someone really knew me,
they wouldn't be afraid
'cause they could see
right through me.
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