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.