Musiques

Season Of The Witch

When I looked out my window
Many sights to see
And when I looked in my window
So many different people to be
That is strange, so strange
You got to pick out every stitch
You got to pick out every stitch
You got to pick out every stitch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch

When I looked over my shoulder
What do you think I see
Summer cat looking over
It shoulder at me
Any strange, sure is strange
You got to pick out every stitch
You got to pick out every stitch
Beat me its eye to make it rich oh no
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch

You got to pick out every stitch
The rabbit's running in the ditch
Beat me its eye to make it rich oh no
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
When I go

When I looked out my window
What do you think I see
And when I looked in my window
So many different people to be
It's strange, sure is strange
You got to pick out every stitch
You got to pick out every stitch
The rabbit's running in the ditch oh no
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
When I go,
When I go

Everything In Its Right Place

Kid A, Kid A
Kid A, Kid A
Everything
Everything
Everything
Everything in its right place
In its right place
In its right place
In its right place

Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon

Everything
Everything
Everything
Everything in its right place
In its right place
In its right place
Right place

I've got two colours in my head
I've got two colours in my head
What was that you tried to say?
What was that you tried to say?
Tried to say
Tried to say
Tried to say
Tried to say

Everything in its right place...

John Wayne Gacy, Jr.

His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne's T-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid