Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you’re here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
I’m being eaten by a Boa Constrictor
A Boa Constrictor
A Boa Constrictor
I’m being eaten by a Boa Constrictor
And I don’t like it one bit
Whadaya know, it’s nibblin’ my toe
Oh gee, it’s up to my knee
Oh fiddle, it’s up to my middle
Oh heck, it’s up to my neck
Oh dread, it’s mm-mm-mm-mm
A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no?
But in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck.
I’m your wicked Uncle Ernie
I’m glad you won’t see or hear me
As I fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddleabout
Come hear uncle John’s band by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about, here beside the rising tide.
Come hear uncle John’s band playing to the tide,
Come on along, or go alone, he’s come to take his children home.
Wo, oh, what I want to know, how does the song go.
We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band
Now that you’re gone
All that’s left is a band of gold
All that’s left of the dreams I hold
Is a band of gold
And the memories of what love could be
If you were still here with me
You’re not really here
It’s just the radio
Radio is a sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the voice of reason
But they don’t give you any choice 'cause they think that it’s treason
So you had better do as you are told
You better listen to the radio
It’s so nice to be insane
No one asks you to explain
The radio by your side
Angie Baby
How sweet to be an Idiot,
As harmless as a cloud,
Too small to hide the sun,
Almost poking fun
At the warm but insecure, untidy crowd.
How sweet to be an idiot,
And dip my brain in joy,
Children laughing at my back,
With no fear of attack,
As much retaliation as a toy.
How sweet to be an idiot. How sweet.
How sweet it is to be loved by you, yes, baby,
How sweet it is to be loved by you.
Ooh, baby, I needed the shelter of someone’s arms,
And there you were.
I needed someone to understand my ups and downs,
And there you were.
What goes up, must come down
Spinning wheel goes 'round…
You spin me right round, baby, right round
Like a record, baby, right round round round
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
He wore black denim trousers and motorcycle boots
And a black leather jacket with an eagle on the back
He had a hopped-up 'cycle that took off like a gun
That fool was the terror of Highway 101
And ev’rybody’s sayin’ that there’s nobody meaner than
The Little Old Lady From Pasadena.
She drives real fast and she drives real hard,
She’s the terror of Colorado Boulevard.
It’s The Little Old Lady From Pasadena!
Helen, Helen wheels
Ain’t nobody else gonna know the way she feels
Helen, Helen wheels
And they never gonna take her away
And…
They’re coming to take me away ha-haaa
They’re coming to take me away ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I’ll be happy to see those nice young men
In their clean white coats
And they’re coming to take me away ha-haaa
Everything is beautiful
in its own way