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Senator and The New Republic
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Overcalculating
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.
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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.
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