In the town of York Hill, on some famous road, up on the bottom lane, up on the bottom lane. There's a lilac tree, hanging down the hill, and just a little child is just sitting alone. From his bedroom, he rides in his mother's car, and he's feeling still, still, still, still. Lying about to be replaced, in the house with the dog. Not a healer or a saint, he won the house but just broke the mic. Guess how he is insane, I won't believe. Where is he now? He left us alone. He has another new home, oh yeah, a new home. He's gone. What were you protecting us from? What were you protecting us from anyway? Lying about to be replaced. Born teacher of the second grade. He thought of all the names of the presidents and states, of the presidents and states. But after a summer break, she woke up. Where is she now? The kids have already. They can't know. It took me a while, but I better not go. They'll wind you up, they'll let you know. All my friends can't wait to question you. Who's your next of kin? Who's your next of kin? All my friends can't wait to leave the house. I won't change a bit. I won't get used to the thought of how lonely I've become.