The ghost who walks
she's on the prowl, for the man she loved,
he cut her down.
It was an ordinary night in June
when he drove her to the lake so they could watch the full moon.
The ghost who walks
she's on the prowl, for the man she loved,
he laid her down
and in the tall grass he kissed her cheek
and with a knife in his hand he plunged it deep
She looked at him with pleading eyes
he softly spoke: "my dear the love has died"
and then he muffled her desperate cries
under the moonlight.
the ghost who walks
she's on the prowl, wanders in the moonlight,
she's crying to herself
cause his eyes never once looked cruel
but the moon in the blade shimmered like a jewel
She looked at him with pleading eyes
he softly spoke: "my dear the love has died"
and then he muffled her deadly cries under the moonlight.
Under the moonlight.
Under the moonlight.