On Box Hill

Lying back in the waterless and spiky grass
Looking up, how the fluffy clouds seem closer now
Looking down through the tumbling grass to the line of trees
All the cars on the Guildford Road are just a murmur now
Footwork paths like white-washed streams run down the hill
Red kite waving so frantically in the bluey sky
Family with a little girl in a blowy dress
She crouches down to pick a flower then dances on

Ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba

Right up here, I'm far away from everything
Right up here, there's nothing that can touch me now
The only thing that stabs my back is spiky grass
The only thing that makes me fall is liberty
On box hill, the world stands still
On box hill, here until
On box hill, the world stands still
On box hill, here until