Rest your weary head tonightIll stay awake till the morning lightto keep all of the wolves at bayif thats what it takes to make you stayAnnabelle Annabellehow many myths must I dispelhow many riots must I quellhow much truth must I tellfor you to say you love meAnnabellefor you to say you love meAnnabelleIf this is a game of win or loseof options weighed...of pick and chooseIll clear the smoke out of your skyonly qualified persons need applyAnnabelle Annabellehow many myths must I dispelhow many riots must I quellhow much truth must I tellfor you to say you love meAnnabellefor you to say you love meAnnabelleright or wrongweak or strongoutside where we dont belongheaven and hellkiss and telldrowning in an empty welloh Annabelleoh AnnabelleBeware to all the great facadeof claiming to have the ear of GodI thought I had it yesterdayand now Annabelle is gone awayAnnabelle Annabellehow many myths must I dispelhow many riots must I quellhow much truth must I tellfor you to say you love meAnnabellefor you to say you love meAnnabelleright or wrongweak or strongoutside where we dont belongheaven and hellkiss and telldrowning in an empty welloh Annabelleoh AnnabelleRest your weary head tonightIll stay awake till the morning lightto keep all of the wolves at bayif thats what it takes to make you stayAnnabelle Annabellehow many myths must I dispelhow many riots must I quellhow much truth must I tellfor you to say you love meAnnabellefor you to say you love meAnnabelle

Never had any money but now I got me somevisited a mill townwith my Daddy’s six gunwith my Daddy’s six gunthat man handed me money easybut I cannot tell a lieI shot him down anywayjust to watch him diejust to watch him dienow I got me some womenand I got me some winewhen you got pockets full of goldyou can have yourself a timeyou can have yourself a timeSunday’s I sleep innobody tell me what to doI’ll talk to my Godwhen I’m good and ready towhen I’m good and ready toPeople treat me finewhen they see my new clothesgot me some shiny shoesand a sunburned noseand a sunburned nosethey say look at himwith rings on his handsyou looking for a killerlook for another manlook for another man

I wanted to name my kid Atticus Finchbut we had 2 girls insteadcalled em both scout for a timeuntil I learned that Gregory Peck was deaddont seem right now that hes goneto remember things his wayto stand when theyd rather you sit downand let others join in the frayNeon lights of the corner barhave led me home for yearswrapped me up and then spit me outwith an all knowing sneerthen family called and it was timeto take that magical mystery ridewith one eye closed and picture framessitting by my bedsideYears go by and people tooand so few can you recalllike an assembly line in a factoryor faces going by at the malland whatever powers you thought you hadover the dangers of this worldthey slide through wrinkled fingertipsand laugh as you as you grow oldbut something still comes over youwhen you watch your children sleepand I think about old Atticus Finchand it damn near makes me weepI wanted to name my kid Atticus Finchbut we had 2 beautiful girls insteadcalled em both scout for a timeuntil I learned that Gregory Peck was deadbut something still comes over youwhen you watch your children sleepand I think about old Atticus Finchand it damn near makes me weep

Bang the gavel bang the drumwords come rolling off the tonguememories fade when they disappearlook at me Ill be your auctioneerSell the pictures on your shelfinto the frames fit someone elsesell the carpets sell the chandeliersleave things to meIll be your auctioneervoices echo down empty hallsthen theyll suffer through withdrawalsknowing that theyre not welcome herethat much is clearwhile Im your auctioneerState your preference state your pricethen leave us to our own devicewalls around us to make things disappearwell start overIll be your auctioneervoices echo down empty hallsthen theyll suffer through withdrawalsknowing that theyre not welcome herethat much is clearwhile Im your auctioneerBang the gavel bang the drumwords come rolling off the tonguememories fade when they disappearlook at me Ill be your auctioneer

Birthday parties and Christmas daysthanksgivings through the yearsrefrigerators and grocery storesand a migrant workers tearsshopping carts and frayed couponsseems every days a blurwould it all taste the sameif you knew who they wereits autumns harvest the end of the lineno more turning water into winehope it withers on the vineits autumns harvest the end of the lineits autumns harvest the end of the lineTheres pastures of plenty herea great little man once saidenough to ensure dignitywith every bite of breadso why do we close our eyesto the things we cannot seeand let others live like dry leavesin the land of the freeits autumns harvest the end of the lineno more turning water into winehope it withers on the vineits autumns harvest the end of the lineits autumns harvest the end of the lineBless us oh Lord and these thy giftswhich we are about to receivehelp us remember that it all got herefrom a man down on his kneesif we had an extra chair would we set a placefor those who pick our foodto lead us in graceSome men give some take awayand others stand asideand watch it all with a wearinessthat allows others to decidethat the food we eat is drenched with sweatsome may surely justifybut when blood is mixed in with the toilits time to ask whyits autumns harvest the end of the lineno more turning water into winehope it withers on the vineits autumns harvest the end of the lineBless us oh Lord and these thy giftswhich we are about to receivehelp us remember that it all got herefrom a man down on his kneesif we had an extra chairwould we set a placeto allow those who pick our foodto lead us in graceits autumns harvest the end of the lineno more turning water into winehope it withers on the vineits autumns harvest the end of the lineits autumns harvest the end of the line

Its breakfast time in Baghdadnot sure where you aremaybe youve out dancingor staring at a starWe lost 2 more boys last nightbut my eyes opened todayso now Im thinking bout flowered dressesand these words I gotta saychorusIf I tell you that Im sorrycan you hear me anywaydespite my distance from youand our lives in disarrayIf you turn on your radioIll tell you what Ill doIll find out where youre tuning inand broadcast these Baghdad bluesthe boys have seen your picureand rib me all the timeabout sneaking away to steal your heartand take away whats mineBut when the nighttime fire glowstheir tanned faces come and gosometimes back in loving armsand sometimes on this roadchorusIts breakfast time in Baghdadnot sure where you aremaybe youve out dancingor staring at a starchorus

I saw a man swinging a severed headwalking through townhe was talking some to himselfwith a frown turned upside downI thought Id seen it allbut here was a place Ive never beenall sorts of ghosts seem to walk these streetsin beautiful BerlinJust exactly what does one dowhen confronted with a severed head?Im kinda shy normallyI prefer things left unsaidbut sometimes someone can pierce the veilof even the most chagrinoh tis a lovely dayin beautiful Berlinpolice moved in after a timeprosecutor said perhaps well findthat he had some trouble in his headand thats why he took hers insteadThe man said he had been provokedand thats why he took her downtwas his very own sister in lawthat was left without her crownapparently he was a tad miffedshe would no longer sleep with himyou can even find a dose of moralityin beautiful Berlin6 million Jews were slaughtered herein the name of the Reichwhile good people walked these same streetsknowing wrong from rightso nothing much surprises mecept the faces of sinoh tis a lovely dayin beautiful Berlin

Of what I’ve seen I cannot tellno words exist to pass it wellbut the eyes of a child need to understandwhat drove a man from his beloved landThey hear me speak with gentle tonguethey hear the songs that need be sungthey see the eyes but not the soulfor that won’t come until they’re oldchorusRiver rolls by without a soundtrying not to disturb this sacred groundthat keeps a child warm at nightand keeps them belt buckles tightPotato was life then it was gonedid what it could then moved alongseemed to carry the good Lord with it toomaybe he had other things to doSo sleep my child under peaceful skiesfor I’ll comfort you when you shake and cryoh pray tell me years are fewbut the good Lord has returned in you(chorus)

How could I let it happenwhy did I turn awaywhen my son began to change somewhen he was led astraywas it fear of the almightyor going against the grainaccusing those with hallowed headsof causing my boy paintonight Im down on bended kneescalling ghosts to help me pleasedown on bended kneesguilt like fallen leavesWhat kind of mother looks upat a boy playing at a manand trembles at the prospectof getting all she canfor surely she is chosenand envy fills the eyesof others without insidersin their spiritual livestonight Im down on bended kneescalling ghosts to help me pleasedown on bended kneesguilt like fallen leavesAsking for answers that just wont cometold me he felt like the only onetonight Im down on bended kneescalling ghosts to help me pleasedown on bended kneesguilt like fallen leavesToday I got the newsthat my boy has passed onskin too few for this worldwhere might is often wronghe told me I chose my graveand here Ill have to lieand that there is no absolutionfor a mother who cant crytonight Im down on bended kneescalling ghosts to help me pleasedown on bended kneesguilt like fallen leavesAsking for answers that wont cometold me he felt like the only onetonight Im down on bended kneescalling ghosts to help me pleasedown on bended kneesguilt like fallen leaves

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Q: Baltimore Street

When I walk you flyon Baltimore Stwhen I laugh you cryon Baltimore StIm a ghost to youand youre a ghost to melead me to the things I cannot seewhen I walk you flyon Baltimore StI see lawyers and t-shirts and minnie ballsmenus and beers and holes in the wallsI see residents sweeping the grime awayI see horses and rappers in ChevroletsI see snipers nests and old woodshedsI see enormous bellies and sun burned headsI see hospitals and nurses and volunteersI see lanterns that talk to arouse your fearWhen I walk you flyon Baltimore Stwhen I laugh you cryon Baltimore StIm a ghost to youand youre a ghost to melead me to the things I cannot seeon Baltimore StI see antique shops and real estate signsmarching bands and young girl behindssoldiers running for their livesand a seething battalion of bored housewivesI see my grandfathers looking through the eyes of a gunI see the stars held back by a blood red sunI feel my wallet lighter but I walked that milelike to rest my head here for awhileWhen I walk you flyon Baltimore Stwhen I laugh you cryon Baltimore StIm a ghost to youand youre a ghost to melead me to the things I cannot seeon Baltimore St

Lyricist- Allan Sherman

Artist- Misfits

Album- Selected Hits For All Moods

30 0 0

+10 pts

5 Star Rating 1 Rating

F, I said F-I F-I-N, F-I-N-K Fink, F-I-N-K, fink, fink, fink Are, I said are A R-A-T, R-A-T-T Rat, R-A-T-T-F-I-N-K Rat fink, Rat Fink Rat fink, Rat Fink Rat fink, R-A-T-T-F-I-N-K Fink, rat fink, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Rat fink, yeah, yeah, yeah Rat fink, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Rat fink, ...

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Posted on 29 Mar 2025, this text provides information on Selected Hits For All Moods related to Allan Sherman. Please note that while accuracy is prioritized, the data presented might not be entirely correct or up-to-date. This information is offered for general knowledge and informational purposes only, and should not be considered as a substitute for professional advice.

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