There’s a house, that’s not on a hill And the paint’s chipping off Of the old window sill There’s a tree in the front yard That’s older than me And older than all of you
There’s a smell that the heat makes It reminds me of Christmas And birthdays in December
I remember her I remember her I remember her so well I remember her I remember her I remember her so well But things they fade
She would kiss my hand She would kiss my head Then she’d fall asleep with me In my tiny bed She would sing me lullabies Gave me my hazel eyes And then she’d call me beautiful She made me beautiful
I remember her I remember her I remember her so well I remember her I remember her I remember her so well
But things they fade Things turn to grey As much as I try to save them They turn to grey Just like the house, that’s not on a hill With all of the rust on the gate The chips on the sill But I love it still
