Day after day, alone on a hill,
the man with the foolish grim
is keeping perfectly still.
But nobody wants to know him,
they can see that heâs just a fool,
a he never gives an answer.
/
But the fool on the hill
sees the sun going down,
and the eyes in his head
see the world spinning round.
Well on the way, head in a cloud,
the man of a thousand voices
talking perfectly loud.
But nobody ever hears him
or the sound he appears to make,
and he never seems to notice.
But the fool on the hill...
[ ] x2
And nobody seems to like him,
they can tell what he wants to do,
and he never shows his feelings.
But the fool on the hill...
[ ] x2
He never listen to them,
he knows that theyâre the fools,
they donât like him.
The fool on the hill...