Foothills Lyrics

Golden hour

Hung on the hills

There on the rise

She shine's a light

That covers the grass

And cuts through the vines

Oh a warm wind blows

Soft summer breeze

Her hands evergreen

She makes a sound

That combs through the trees

Picking up leaves

Time, was fickle

All through and through

Careless summer day

Curled up next to you

Sit on the porch

Hear the radio play

And the din of an echoing baseball game

Now I'm off chasing trains

My home's on the rails

I keep my feet

Gone across the country

But I'll never lose sight of you now

The sky's covered in

Patches of white and soft vermillion

And I roll in the memories

Of riding the bikes down foothills street