when i was a kid i grew up in a house
on a hill not the top not the bottom but the middle and i still
remember where i cracked my head in the vacant lot theres
a row of tiny houses there now and we used to light fires in
the gutters and i could cool my head on the concrete steps
but the girl down the street hit my sister on the head with
a stick and we hid behind my father as he knocked on her
parents door to tell them what she did but the parents were
drunk so they really didnt give a shit
and the girl down the street said a dog couldnt bark cause a
man with an axe cut its voice box out bt my older sister told
me that it probably wasn't true and i believe what she said coz
she took me by my hand one time when a couple men drove
down the hill in a white van said there was a phone box filled
with money round the corner and i would have gone along but
she took me by my hand to the house on the middle of the
hill on the midle of the hill on the middle of the hill
and my mother knew the words to a lot of different songs and
we always sing the harmonies when we'd sing along she had
cool cool hands when the fever hit and then the noises that
the trains made sounded like people in my head and the stories
that the ceiling told through the pictures on the grains and the
pine wood bumps and i could stay out side till the sky went red
and i'd cool my head on the concrete steps and we could never
really see the top from the bottom i dont pay enough attention
to the good things but i gotta you could never really see the top
from the bottom i dont pay enough attention to the good things but i gotta
i dont pay enough attention to the good things but i gotta i dont
pay enough attention to the good things but i gotta i dont pay
enough attention to the good things but i gotta i dont pay
enough attention to the good things but i gotta now