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Runaways

de Mark Fry

The witch is looking through my window
Her cold breath on the window pane
The witch is eating watermelon
The pips she’ll try to rearrange

And I’m all alone
Waiting for someone
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home

The witch is coming through my window
The winter snow upon her hair
The curtains move upon the wind
She’s coming right on up the stairs

And I’m all alone
Waiting for someone
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home
To come on home

And ah, the witch, the witch is coming right on through my window
And ah, the witch, the witch is coming right on through my window
Right on through my window
Right on through my window

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