Lμcκy XIII

He's waiting for that special soul
Eduardo King his ultimate prize

Thirteen is the number on the door
Of the gothic Carpenters Inn
There are no other properties for miles
But he enjoys the joke with a sadistic grin

Thirteen candles burn brightly
On the wrought iron chandeliers
Thirteen is the lucky number
That plays on their superstitious fears

Thirteen precisely carved pumpkins
Knowingly smile at the arriving guests
Their flames flicker in anticipation
At the fear inducing obsessed

Thirteen bullets he has prepared
All polished in their case
Sir Allen Edgar fingers them delicately
While smoothing the scar on his face

This year he knows he'll come
Lucky number thirteen
For he knows he was watching last year
The carving of his lover he seen.