The Hill Dwellers

The Who

Way back deep into the brain 
Way back past the realm of pain 
Back where there's never any rain. 
And the rain falls gently on the town, 
And over the heads of all of us. 
And in the labyrinth of streams 
Beneath, quiet unearthly presence of 
Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around, 
Reptiles abounding 
Fossils, caves, cool air heights. 

Each house repeats a mold 
Windows rolled 
A beast car locked in against morning. 
All now sleeping 
Rugs silent, mirrors vacant, 
Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples 
Wound in sheets. 
And daughters, smug 
With semen eyes in their nipples 

Wait 
There's been a slaughter here!
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