The witches used to bother me
Temptation was a scourge
Now weekly they have trials
And my neighbors go t’ purge
If you feel a bit funny
They dunk her nice and deep
If she drowns she’s saved, forgive us
If she comes back up, she’ weak
So we burn those who dare cross us
And it all comes out awash
In the holy smokes of delegation
from on high, you watch
Ever since they outlawed sinning
Things are going right as planned
All the good folks fallin’ in line
all the big folks making plans
I don’t mind, just being a fella
who likes his women, wine, and God
They give me my fill of all those
and the women drag along
I always took pride in being one of
the strong men of the flock
And if the complaints of firey types
disagree with my superstitious bones
Who act up when I sense storms coming
And move slowly, slow to rise
That one fellow who looked crooked
Went along, but… in his eyes
There was a time, like waiting, like knowing
Like the storm’s already here
And then he went out on the water
He neither drowned, nor rose again
Simply walked and whispered: “Fear”
The Haunted Typewriter 