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.