WhoaaahnnThe witch is on your trail, my lordnStormy stormy highnYou've been dying to be set freenOh curse those honeyed handsnnWhoaaahnnIt wasn't the doctors that finished the pillsnHe wants the ones that don't cracknBut they're dangerous like barbed wire tiesnOh stormy stormy mindsnnWell, oh, it wasn't us, though, that torched to flamesnThe fried daughters of oh, no ohnWell you've been up since the last motelnYou've been up for so longnOhnn[x13]nStormy stormy high