It was the same sad, pathetic story. The ghost was home (again). Depressed, broke and alone. Boo-hoo, nobody loves me. Even she was tired of listening to the same broken record play over and over and over again. She was miserable in the dark on her favorite night of the year (and it was bullshit).

Then, the light turned on (a-ha).

She could do anything she wanted (and I mean anything). Frighten small children, steal candy, terrorize the spirits from beyond. The afterlife was her oyster and she was wasting it all away on her broken heart and lost lover. It was pitiful and would stop right now. What other night of the year could she get away with black tear stains from gobs of mascara and eyeliner running down her face, dashing and darting through the dark streets hysterical and insane? Well baby, it was tonight and she was taking full advantage.

"Fuck it" she says. "I'm going out."

I don't know who you think you are
But before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
I wanna do real bad things with you