Bishop Allen Follow

Before the choir master drank himself to death
He used to love to entertain us with a song
And you never would have guessed that he was horribly depressed
For when he'd sing, it didn't seem a thing was wrong

Singing “Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will roll”

I see the guidance counselor for our yearly tough talk
And he used his hand to hide his crooked teeth
He said “A day will come along when you will find where you belong
And pray to god it isn't here with me”

Singing “Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will roll”

“Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will roll”

Seventeen years later, I was walking home one day
There was a man sitting, shaking, in the rain
White as a sheet and missing all his teeth
He looked so bad, I really can't explain
I think his name was Tim, he used to beat me up in gym
And I asked if he remembered me, 'cause I remembered him
And I pulled him to his feet, and I kissed him on the cheek
And arm in arm, we struck up this refrain:

Singing “Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will—
Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will—
Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Hey, ho, the heads will roll
Death will come and take my song
How the heads will roll”