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... .