A copperhead I see has found its way to me,
It’s sound and it’s sound and it’s sound,
Making me cry.
I sleep but I will not move,
Too scared to leave my room,
But I won’t be defeated, oh no.
What if cars don’t go my way?
And it’s sure to spoil my day.
But in voices loud and clear you say to me “it’s only superstition.
It’s only your imagination,
It’s only all of the things that you fear and the things from which you can’t escape.”
Keep clean for the thousandth time,
Stand still and wait and line.
Some numbers are badder than others, oh no.
What if cars don’t go my way?
And it’s sure to spoil my day,
But in voices loud and clear you say to me “it’s only superstition.
It’s only your imagination,
It’s only all of the things that you fear and the things from which you cannot expect.”
But it’s making me cry, and it’s making me cry,
And I’m slipping away and I’m slipping away,
It’s only superstition, only your imagination,
It’s only superstition, only superstition.
