we are witches me and you
we are evil though and though
we are cooking special brew
we are witches

weaving the spells of heaven’s true hell
and hell is what’s left when we’re done
ruin and waste that we’ll never face
we just give it to our daughters and sons

we are witches you and me
we are earth and sky and sea
we are making sorcery
we are witches

sorrow and sin are the webs that we spin
we are poison and suck the world’s blood
earthquake and storm thistle and thorn
we are pestilence famine and flood

we are witches yes indeed
we are wicked ugly greed
we are smoking special weed
we are witches

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman
Additional lyrics by Robin Cox
©1995 Tribe of Angels. All rights reserved.

If the bell tolls, I’ll know you’re dead
And I’ll run for my life like you said
And if I make it to the sea
Then you’ll be there to meet me
In a chariot of fire red
And if a storm comes, I’ll know I’m free
Destiny gave all it had to me
And it chased me to the sea
And thought for sure it beat me
But it didn’t as you can see

If I, if I, had wings I’d fly, to the sea
And you’ll be there to meet me
In a chariot of fire red

And with the moonrise it all comes clear
With just cold wind and a star by which to steer
And if I make o’er the sea with angels there to meet
And a host of mighty warriors

If I, if I, had wings I’d fly, to the sea
And you’ll be there to meet me
In a chariot of fire red

And I woke up in a chariot . . .

I can see the moonlight in a fatalistic dance
I can see tomorrow dying like a sad romance
I can see forever and it feels kind of right and I cry
Nevermore, nevermore

Kicking like a junky dealing with a day or two
The room is getting funky and it tells me what to do
I can see forever and it feels kind of right and I cry
Nevermore, nevermore

Slowly going crazy in a room without a door
A raven by my window crying
Nevermore, nevermore . . .

Words and music by Michael Koppelman, Steve Noonan, Steve Mayone, Kurt Koppelman and Andrew Deckard
Michael Koppelman: Acoustic & electric guitar, lead vocal
Kurt Koppelman: Bass
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Stephe Mayone: Lead guitar, background vocal

© 1995 Tribe of Angels

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Deeper

Let it out
Faster, faster
Let it out
Longer, stronger
Let it out
I need it, I want it, I got it for today

Let it out
Meaner, cleaner
Let it out
And be there, be there
Let it out
I need it, I want it, I got it for today

Let me in
Deeper, deeper
Let me in
Deeper, deeper
Let me in
Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper

Words and music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Electric guitar, vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Stephe Mayone: Lead guitar
Steve Noonan: Electric guitar

Recorded at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

© 1995 Tribe of Angels (ASCAP)

Words and music by Michael Koppelman

Sick

It is sick, that old trick
It’s a twisted, fucked up sin
Sick like a porno flick, that slowly draws you in
It is profane and perverse, like a sexy Satan verse
You’re lonely in a way that just makes you want to play
You are sick

It is sick, what you lick
It is horny to the hilt
Sick like that needle prick and drop of blood you spilt
It is dark, unholy lust that just makes you wanna bust
It’s dirty in a way, that just makes you play and play
You are sick

Michael Koppelman: Electric guitar, vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Stephe Mayone: Electric guitar

Recorded at Tricord Studios, Minneapolis MN

© 1995 Tribe of Angels (ASCAP)

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Acoustic & electric guitar, keyboards, vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Stephe Mayone: Lead guitar
Recorded at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Anyday Now

It’s a good time
To read my mind
And it’s the right day to go away
It’s the same thing as the day before
and it’s the right time to walk out that door

And I’m going away
Anyday now
Just you wait and see
I’m on my way
Anyday now

It’s a good day to lose your mind
If you can’t find it
You could always have mine
And it’s the first time it occurred to me
That now is the one time I have to be free

And I’m going away
Anyday now
Just you wait and see
I’m on my way
Anyday now

© 2005 Tribe of Angels (ASCAP)

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Acoustic and electric guitars, lead vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass, acoustic mandolin
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Stephe Mayone: Electric mandolin

Recorded at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Fear

When you say what you mean to me
Well it doesn’t mean a thing, cause I know that you’ve never been free
And you say that you need to know
Well it’s obvious you don’t by the way that you just say so
Then you say what you mean to me
And it doesn’t mean a thing, cause I know that you’ve never been free

Then you say you need a perfect life
And you want it on a platter overnight with your perfect wife
Then you plan what you’re gonna do
With the big bag of money that they give you just for being you
Then you say what you mean to me
and it doesn’t mean a thing, cause I know that you’ve never been free

© 2005 Tribe of Angels

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Acoustic and electric guitars, lead vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass, mandolin, background vocals
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Recorded at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Where Blackbirds Fly

Way up where the blackbirds fly
The Pharaohs live and they rule when they die
And no one stops to question why
Just get in line and pray and so do I

Way up high the blackbirds sing
All life is lost and the dead are king
And they drink their wine of black sunshine
And never hear all the pain of the place behind

Way down in this land of sin
The Earth feels real and I want to get in
To let my body lie and spirit fly
To that place in the sky where the blackbirds fly

© 2005 Tribe of Angels

Words and music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Guitar, vocals, strange noises
Kurt Koppelman: Bass, strange noises
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion, strange noises

Recorded by Dave Kent at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Up To You

How do you go from high to low?
Why can you see what I mean?
How can it be such a mystery
These desperate things you have seen?

But if it was up to me, you’d be young and I’d be free . . .

That’s all you’ve known, “Leave me alone”
Is all you know how to do
But I can see through the misery
That something else tries to get through

But if it was up to you, would you change the things you do . . . ?

Do you think you’ll do the deed someday?
Make up your mind and blow yourself away?
It’s not the thing I’d like to be
But it’s not up to me

How do you go from high to low?
Why can you see what I mean?
How can you be such a mystery
And never go in between?

But if it was up to you, you’d be young and I’d be free . . .

It’s not the thing I’d like to be
Make up your mind but it’s not up to me
If death’s a thing you want to do
I guess it’s up to you

© 2005 Tribe of Angels (ASCAP)

Words and music by Michael Koppelman, Kurt Koppelman, and Stephe Mayone

Treasure Map

Open the book to page thirteen
Treasure map, follow it, try to find me
Open the book and you’ll see what I mean
Figure it out and you’ve figured out me

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

Follow the cat to the triple-eye
Mumble a prayer to the open sky
Take a drink from the bottle of the gypsy queen
Wash it all off in the Buddha’s dream

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

But you give it all up on a wild ride
You give it all up for a good time
Yeah, you give it away on a wild ride
You give it all up for a good high
You give it away on a wild ride
You give it all up for good time

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

© 2005 Tribe of Angels