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Day after day alone on a hill, |
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the man with a foolish grin is keeping perfectly still |
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But nobody wants to know him, |
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they can see that he's just a fool as he never gives an answer |
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But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down |
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And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round. |
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Well on the way, head in a cloud, |
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the man of a thousand voices talking perfect-ly loud |
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But nobody ever hears him or the sound he appears to make |
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and he never seems to notice |
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But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down |
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And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round. |
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And nobody seems to like him they can tell what he wants to do |
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And he never shows his feelings but the fool on the hill |
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Sees the sun going down and the eyes in his head see the world spinning round. |
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He never listens to them |
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He know that they're the fools |
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They don't like him |
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The fool on the hill sees the sun going down |
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And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round |
