Kicking at the forest floor I’m bored
Looking up the sky looks weird, not bored
Of course I’ll go your way my love
You might call me a forest boy if you breathe the city out of me
And a cloud just died
And that bird, his noise it rhymes
As I look around it’s right
You can teach me bird names every night and give me new ideas
Standing on the highest hill it’s warm
Looking at the sky looks full, it poured
Of course I know the way my love
You might call me a hilltop boy if you breathe the city out of me
There’s twenty toes on the floor and a black dog waiting at the door
I’m loaded
Another night of sleeping over
Another rooftop hour
I’m greaseball in the shower
Stationed under the tiniest tower