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  • Writer's pictureMichael Bastianelli

Arcade of '95

(Verse 1)

In the dark arcade of '95,

A twisted tale begins to thrive,

A boy consumed by the flashing lights,

Lost within the shadows of the night.


Among the echoes of laughter and cheer,

A sinister presence would soon appear,

His family searched, his friends did call,

But the boy was swallowed by the darkened hall.


(Pre-Chorus)

Fog swirled around the parking lot,

The cold and wet pavement, a treacherous plot,

Outside he wandered, a fateful mistake,

Into the wrong van, his life at stake.


(Chorus)

Whispers of tickets, a currency of fear,

Prizes that taunt him, a nightmare drawing near,

Lost in the shadows, the boy cannot see,

The price of his freedom, the cost to be free.


(Verse 2)

In the devil's playground, machines of deceit,

The boy felt a chill, a darkness complete,

A ghostly figure, his fate intertwined,

Took him by the hand, no turning back this time.


The games of fortune, a cruel facade,

He wished for escape, but was trapped in their claws,

A dance with the shadows, a sinister tune,

A carnival of horrors, his impending doom.


(Bridge 1)

Police sirens wailed, synced with arcade lights,

A frantic search, cutting through the night,

But the boy was gone, stolen away,

His fate now sealed in the dark arcade.


(Chorus)

Whispers of tickets, a currency of fear,

Prizes that taunt him, a nightmare drawing near,

Lost in the shadows, the boy cannot see,

The price of his freedom, the cost to be free.


(Bridge 2)

The moon cast its light on the cold arcade floor,

As the boy wept softly, his spirit torn,

No prize could replace the love he had known,

For in the shadows, he was forever alone.


(Verse 3)

From Kentucky's lost souls, a story untold,

A warning to children, a tale to be known,

The arcade of nightmares, where innocence dies,

A prison of darkness, a tomb of lost cries.


Years have gone by, but the ghost remains,

A specter of sorrow, eternally chained,

A boy once alive, now forever bound,

In the haunted arcade, where no hope is found.


(Chorus)

Whispers of tickets, a currency of fear,

Prizes that taunt him, a nightmare drawing near,

Lost in the shadows, the boy cannot see,

The price of his freedom, the cost to be free.


(Outro)

In the dark arcade of '95,

A twisted tale of a lost life,

Heed this warning, or you may find,

You too, will be lost in the carnival of the blind.

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