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 he's 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 they're the fools, they don't like him. The fool on the hill...
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