When I was a kid I grew up in a house on a hill
Not the top, not the bottom, but the middle
And I still remember where I cracked my head
In the vacant lot, there's a row of tiny houses there now
And we used to light fires in the gutters
And I could cool my head on the concrete steps
But the girl down the street hit my sister on the head with a stick
And we hid behind my father as he knocked on her parents' door
To tell him what she did, but the parents were drunk
So they really didn't give a ***
And the girl down the street said her dog couldn't bark
Cause a man with an axe cut its voice parts out
But my older sister told me that it probably wasn't true
And I believe what she said, cause she took me by the hand one time
When a couple men drove down the hill in a white van
Said there was a phone box filled with money round the corner
And I would've gone along, but she took me by the hand
To the house in the middle of the hill
The middle of the hill, the middle of the hill
And our mother knew the words to a lot of different songs
And we'd always sing the harmonies when we'd sing along
I'd cool, cool hands when the fever hit
And the noises that the trains made sounded like people in my head
And the stories that the ceiling told
Through the pictures in the grains on the pinewood boards
And I could stay outside till the sky went red
And I could cool my head on the concrete steps
And you can never really see the top from the bottom
But I'm paying up attention to the good things when I got them
You can never really see the top from the bottom
But I'm paying up attention to the good things when I got them
But I'm paying up attention to the good things when I got them