When I look out my window Many sights to see And when I look in my window So many different people to be And it's strange So very strange You got to pick up every stitch You got to pick up every stitch You got to pick up every stitch Oooh yeah, must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch, yeah Must be the season of the witch When I look over my shoulder What do you think that I see? Someone else is lookin' over His shoulder at me And it's strange It's very strange You got to pick up every stitch The rabbits runnin' in the ditch Everyone's out 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, yeah Must be the season of the witch When I look over my shoulder It's very strange

The Academy Is... Wake up, think fast, three weeks have passed. We are changing. No sleep, no gas, no excuses will pass these lips Cause we're shapin' up to be All you wish you could have been To write the hits and to turn their heads And to open eyes (open your eyes) to a brand new season, A brand new season. So show me something we haven't heard yet, But I'm not convinced and your heartless songs won't stick. But I, I'll sing you something you won't forget For the first time I know this is now who I am. Wake up, think fast, three weeks have passed these lips 'Cause we're shapin' up to be All you wish you could have been To write the hits and to turn heads, to turn heads, And to open eyes (open your eyes) to a brand new season, A brand new season. So show me something we haven't heard yet, But I'm not convinced and your heartless songs won't stick. But I, I'll sing you something you won't forget For the first time I know this is now who I am. You'll see what we mean, You'll notice when we're gone. So show me something we haven't heard yet, But I'm not convinced and your heartless songs won't stick. But I, I'll sing you something you won't forget For the first time I know this is now who I am. So show me something we haven't heard yet, But I'm not convinced and your heartless songs won't stick. But I, I'll sing you something you won't forget For the first time I know this is now who I am.

When I look outside my window What do I see? And when I look outside my window So many different people to be, yeah That it's strange, so strange You've got to pick up every stitch Two rabbits running in a ditch The hippies out 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 Must be the season of the witch Well, when I look over my shoulder What do I see? And when I look over my shoulder Some ancient fellow I'm longing to be It's so strange, so strange You've got to pick up every stitch Two rabbits running in the ditch The hippies out 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 Must be the season of the witch And here we sit immersed in a liquid sea of love Shimmering rainbows in silver sky above A looking glass that reflects our past Tied with seaweed all around like willows Upside down, you caress my heart Caress my soul, surround my limbs You laugh your laugh and hold my body fast And we wake up and sit here thinking Thinking about the times we used to have And know they're gone forever We'll never learn, never learn "Help me" "Somebody help him" As I look over my shoulder What do I see? And as I look over my shoulder There's so many pretty sights to see That it's strange, so strange You've got to pick up every stitch You've got to pick up every stitch Those hippies out to make it rich Oh no Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch Season of the witch Please have mercy on my soul No, no, must be the season of the witch [Incomprehensible] God, God, hey If you can't help us you better listen, please Momma, I'm cold

(Must be the season of the witch) (Must be the season of the witch, yeah) When I look out my window Many sights to see And when I look in my window So many different people to be That it's strange, so strange You've got to pick up every stitch You've got to pick up every stitch You've got to pick up every stitch Oh no, must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch, yeah Must be the season of the witch When I look over my shoulder What do you think I see? Some other cat lookin' over Over his shoulder at me And he's strange, sure he's strange You've got to pick up every stitch You've got to pick up every stitch Beatniks are out to make it rich Oh no, must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch, yeah Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch, yeah Must be the season of the witch

When I look out my window Many sights to see When I look in my window So many different people to be It's strange, so very strange You got to pick up every stitch You got to pick up every stitch Must be the season, the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch When I look over my shoulder What do you think I see? Some other cat looking over His shoulder right at me And it's strange, surely strange You got to pick up every stitch Beatniks are out to make it rich, oh, no Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch When I look out my window So many sights to see When I look into my window So many different people to be You got to pick up every stitch Rabbit's runnin' in the ditch Beatniks are out to make it rich, oh, no, oh, no Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch Must be the season of the witch

My name is Bob Fudge I was born in Texas Lampasas County Back during the war Small pox and Comanches Took most of my family Left my poor mother My brothers and me So I headed north To ride for the Blockers They were contractin' herds On the Montana range In the spring of the year '82 We left ol' Lampasas With two thousand steers For the Little Bighorn Crossing our trails There were many great rivers All to be crossed Not a bridge would we find In the cold rolling waters And the wild plunging cattle There was many a young man Took leave of his life Well, we crossed at Doan's Store Into the Indian nation Saw the blood on the rocks Where those cowboys had died Then it's on to Fort Dodge On the Arkansas River Where gamblers and the whores All welcomed us there And the great snowcapped peaks Are on our left side now For many miles In the great silent land When I first saw Montana I knew I would love her I would ride her great plains 'Til the end of my days But she's all cut-and-dry now And the trails are all gone I've been to Yellowstone Park In an automobile But I can still see 'em swimming Boys, I can still hear 'em running I came off of the trails When cowboys was king My name is Bob Fudge I died in Montana