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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
(Turn me up) Two thousand seventy-five The freeways were still alive See the people for miles and miles Two-zero-seven-five We were searching for a place to hide Easy rider meets the end of time You were young and out of the wild Two-zero-seventy-five And they blew down the buildings And we stood in lines for bread Just like Mother Russia back when she was still Red Ding-dong! the witch is dead! Ding-dong! the witch is dead! Ding-dong! the witch is dead, she's dead! From the shores of Nantucket to Los Angeles She was swallowed up in petty greed In New York City, the sun doesn't shine And Hollywood is covered in vines They dug up treasure from the Mayan times Two-zero-seventy-nine But the fire in their breast burned like a funeral pyre Museums are closing 'Cause the animals all fled Deep down in the city Liberty's lost her head Ding-dong! the witch is dead! Ding-dong! the witch is dead! Ding-dong! the witch, she's dead! (We hope) From the shores of Nantucket to Los Angeles She was swallowed up in her own greed So tell me a story, and make it sweet, Like a tale from a dream There's a city of gold up in the sky, A place where we'll never die You and me will never die Two-zero-ninety-nine Two-zero-ninety-nine Two-zero-ninety-nine (nine) Two-zero-ninety-nine Two-zero-ninety-nine (two-zero-nine, oh) |