up on the hillside you can see the cross shine

out in the alley hear the hungry dog whine

you and i, friend, sit waiting for a sign

see how the sunset makes the lake look like wine.



over the mountain i can hear myself called

i want to come running but my window's too small

the cliffs are so high and i might fall

what were you saying? -- oh, it's nothing at all.



yes, the world's in convulsions and the weather is fine

buicks get bigger and five cents costs a dime

i must get going, you know, there's not much time

the road is waiting and i'm running out of rhyme.

up on the hillside, see how the cross does shine.