over the mountain i can hear
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.