When I was a young boy
I went up to a hill
And looked on to a spot that
A parking lot would fill

I knew I would have no say
In whether it was done
I looked on that spot and
I wish I had a gun

When I was older
I took her to my hill
The shopping mart security
Couldn't find us there
It gave us a big thrill

Long ago, the family farm
Would've hidden us from the stars
But yellow weeds and garbage heaps
Hid us from the cops

Now I sit on my hill
In a basement full of machines
Rich folks laugh while the furnace burns
And this condo sits on me
Can't see any blackbirds
Can't see any clouds
The weeds are gone
And so is she

Rich folks choke on billowing smoke
And I found a new hill