Fire on the Hill - Dave Edwards

    The sun comes up In the morning over canyons made of steel.
    Some of us choose to climb the walls, the others walk the wheel.
    We try to bring a world of blind injustice down to kneel.
    But I have slipped and found somebody's hand beneath my heel.

    I turn to say "I'm sorry." There are bruises on his face.
    I lend a helping, healing hand and hope to hide the trace.
    But everybody's running from some distant dark disgrace.
    And every eye looks through me as If through empty space.

    So many desperate faces I have to run and hide.
    There's no way I can tell them there is no one on their side.
    Looking for the courage I stumble on my pride.
    Realize the answer will forever be denied.

    When you talk compassion with the leaders of the land
    It doesn't win elections so It's not quite what they planned.
    They are actors playing in a film that should be banned.
    Where does that leave you and me? It leaves us holding sand.

    The dying red of sunset throws a fire on the hill.
    Reminds me of the fire we knew in the days of stronger will.
    To know we were alive then is to know a tear will spill,
    Just to see the faces on the children trying still.

    Oh Lord, I hope they're trying still.

    by Dave Edwards, ©1984 Thunderhead Music ASCAP


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words