Season of the Witch

Vanilla Fudge

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Vanilla Fudge

Vanilla Fudge is an American rock band. The band's original lineup—vocalist/organist Mark Stein, bassist/vocalist Tim Bogert, lead guitarist/vocalist Vince Martell, and drummer/vocalist Carmine Appice—recorded five albums during the years 1966–69, before disbanding in 1970. The band has reunited in various configurations over the years, and is currently operating with three of the four original members, Mark Stein, Vince Martell, and Carmine Appice with Pete Bremy on bass for Tim Bogert who has retired from touring. The band has been cited as "one of the few American links between psychedelia and hard rock. more »


Year:
1998
7:48

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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
[?]

God, God, hey
If you can't help us you better listen, please
Momma, I'm cold

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Written by: Donovan Leitch

Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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