Phantom barber’s chair

Silas cuts what can't be seen

In a shop of in-between

Empty chair that rocks and sways

While he trims the phantom grey

Scissors dance through vacant air

Styling soles beyond repair

Every snip removes regret

From the ghost he's never met

Step right up though you're not there

Let me style your spectral hair

In my supernatural chair

In the phantom barber's chair

Where the living wouldn't dare

Every ghost gets their trim

When the lights grow dim

In his shop beyond compare

Wedding ghosts need up those tight

Phantom children cowlicks right

Ancient spirits beard so long

He makes every spectre strong

Does he cut to make them whole?

Or to harvest spectral soul?

In this mirror made of mist

Do the dead know they exist?

In the phantom barber's chair

Where the living wouldn't dare

Oh his clients have no flesh

He makes spirits feel fresh

With his otherworldly care

Sunrise sends the ghosts away

But they'll return another day

Silas sweeps the phantom hair

From his supernatural chair

The spirits will return tonight

For another ghostly sight