You say the hill's too steep to climb, chiding You say you'd like to see me try, climbing You pick the place and I'll choose the time And I'll climb the hill in my own way Just wait a while for the right day And as I rise above the tree-line and the clouds I look down hear the sounds of the things you said today
Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd, smiling Merciless the magistrate turns round, frowning And who's the fool who wears the crown No doubt in your own way And every day is the right day And as you rise above the fear-lines in his brow You look down hear the sound of the faces in the crowd