There's no gold in them hills
And there's never gonna be a cloud
With silver all around, it's just not found.

Dirt on my window sill
And the flowers have all turned brown.
Dying in the cold hard ground, without a sound.


And I can be so under appreciative
And you can be so over calculating

And that's alright.

There's no gold in them hills

And there's never gonna be a cloud
With silver all around, it's just not found.


And I can be so under appreciative
And you can be so over calculating
And I can be so over calculating

And that's alright.