Rock’n’Roll Heaven

Oooh, sha la la, hear the angels sing
Carry on luggage is all you bring
Oooh, sha la la, hear the angels sing
Carry on luggage is all you bring

Buddy Holly’s waiting with a highball and a grin
To show you which room of the motel you’re in
There’s vinyl records on every shelf
And the guitar strings all change themselves

There’s a place in the sky
Where the the beer stays cold
The mics are new and the guitars one old
The amps go up to eleven
In Rock’n’Roll heaven

The promoter’s got a pizza and all your bread
Every zeppelin is made of led
There’s breakfast all day in every town
And ram seat in in the van goes down

The stage is made of mahogany boards
You only need to know three chords
There’s a chevy at the levy
Light strings sound heavy
You’ll cure the summertime blues
Twenty flights up with EddieOooh, sha la la, hear the angels sing
Carry on luggage is all you bring
Oooh, sha la la, hear the angels sing
Chuck Berry’s singing “My Ding-a-ling”
Oooh, sha la la
Oooh, sha la la
Oooh, sha la la
Oooh, sha la la
The amps go up to eleven

Lyrics used by permission