Hills of California

Just a boy sitting on a wagon

San Gabriel Valley suburb cul-de-sac

Looking at a wall of granite boulders

Davy Crockett cap gun in his lap

Fascinated by the giant mountains

And wondering who he could become

As the Santa Anas whip down through the canyons

Of those Hills of California where I'm from

Hiking up an endless dusty fireroad

Trusty Boy Scout canteen shoulder tied

Looking for the ruins of the railroad

Climbing with his father at his side

Imagining them riding up the mountain

Listening to the steel cable's hum

Nothing but whistlin' in the pine trees

Of those Hills of California where I'm from

But the sky is burning crimson fire

Smoke and ashes blocking out the sun

Some say we really don't belong here

Some say the ending time already has begun

Now these days I live in that hazy valley

Not far from where a young boy rode his bike

I'm walking in the shadows of the mountains

Remembering a father and a hike

You never really see it when it happens

It's easy to keep the feeling numb

But now I've come to understand the meaning

Of those Hills of California where I'm from

I'm beginning to understand the meaning

Of those Hills of California where I'm from