(Bachman/Cummings)      Friends of mine don't have the time   For food or wine   Just money is on their minds      Life is sweet   On a one-way street   They're indiscrete    And funny, they'll never meet      B-bay-b-bay-b-bay-b-bay-bay-baby...      I gotta get a two-ton truck   I gotta get a two-ton truck   I gotta get a two-ton truck   I gotta get a two-ton truck   I gotta do it to a duck on a two-ton truck and fade away like Ron Rene   All right, all right      You got the magical mystery tour   You got the magical mystery tour   You got the magical mystery tour   You got the magical mystery tour      And Kurt is the Walrus   And Kurt is the Walrus   And the Walrus does funny things to the veins in his left arm   All right      And Michael is now a father, all right   And Michael is now a proud father, all right   And my good friend Michael is now a proud father   And Michael is now a father, all right   And that means Michael's wife is a mother, all right      Up the 13 steps of the gallows walked the condemned man   And time passes very quickly when death is near   After having completed the first step, the condemned man knew there were but 12 left   Before he would meet death and his soul would leave his body   And after having completed the 13 steps the condemned man was met by a giant cloaked figure   And with a quick flick of the wrist the man was dead   And his soul left his body and went down down down   To a place we laughingly refer to as hell   But none of us will ever go there because we're all far too groovy   The man's body was left to rot on the gallows   And a great multitude of black birds came and picked the man's corpse apart   Piece by piece   Limb by limb   Until nothing remained    And his blood melted into the ground below      The gallows was made from a tree created by God   The man's blood dripped into the ground which was created by God   Even the giant cloaked figure which was the man's own end was created by God   Even the man's soul which went down was created by God   Even the black birds which picked the man's corpse apart were created by God   AND WHERE WAS GOD?      In Flanders Fields the poppies grow   between the crosses row on row   to mark the dead      To Flanders Fields the hippies go   to smoke the poppies there below   and feed their heads      And they're all friends of mine, each and every one of them, no better or no worse   And we'll probably end up down there together when it's all over      And that's why we say   b-bay-b-bay-b-bay-b-bay-b-baby ...      It's all over and it's all right.