Hannah Marcus Lot 309
We live on top of a crumbling hill
And at night we hardly see any stars shine
But the San Bernadino mountains so high
How they rise behind Lot 309
How they rise behind Lot 309
How they rise
The landlord's son is a drunken bum
And he weed whacks, weed whacks all the time
Once he got so bombed that he took out his scythe
And he chopped down all the birds of paradise
Behind Lot 309. He went wild
He went wild
In Altadena the blaze turned the sky black
And orange for days till the flames all died out
And the poor Bougainvillas got all dried out
But now it's cooled off
Say look at that big black moth coming up from the night
He's fallen in love with the yellow hall light
He's falling so hard for something so bright
It's burning his heart, it's blinding his sight
Oh well, that's life
Hey, babe come on outside and look at hirn rise
He's on fire behind lot 309
He's on fire
He's on fire behind lot 309
He's on fire...
