From the top of the hill, like a secret, too old to tell The light came rushing in, oh it blinded, and washed across the wall It's a hard ride from the flatlands, all stuck up in your head A new gold rush and all the quarries, are finally filling in The season, feeling sleepy on the outskirts of town Waiting for the breeze to come around To cut a check, Say farewell I'm leaving for the other side of the storm The grass is always green on the northside It rained for twenty years All the color washed away the other morning Now they can't hold back the tears Oh see the light, come blinking through the fog on our left So faded so faded so faint To cut a check, say farewell I'm leaving for the other side of the storm