Another, then I'm gone again
You wave your hand over my lens
But I am watching something good
I'd tell you if you understood
Living on a hill with its back to the sun
Growing nothing still, all the work it gets done
I'm keeping still the things that kill
Desire and will, it's fine until
I hear a word that sits with me
Like sour milk, I pour it free
Living on a hill with its back to the sun
Growing nothing still, all the work, it gets done
Underneath the hill was a hidden town
Buried were the fields and the buildings drowned
Sometimes in the evenings, I take my boat
Just to see the town
And I feel that I want to swim down
