Tekster: Mountain Goats, The. US Mill.

way up north

down the road a little

back in new england

right here in the middle

and all the way out west

we had our ears to the ground

all of our dreams resting in the same spot

listening for the old sound

it was ringing as clear as crystal

it was shining as bright as gold

grain gathering on the stone floor

and we were spring-heeled and we were real cold

all summer long

deep into autumn

in a high room

and down here in the bottom

down here in the bottom