But high up on the mountain When the wind is hitting it If you're watching very closely The rock slips a little bit... - Harry Chapin

And while blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can hear And still you will not answer with that message coming clear Does it mean there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream And the buzzards own the carcass of your dream?

You know the man who told me about it on the bus, as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania, he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head, and he said (and this is exactly what he said) "Boy that sure must've been something. Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas. Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas. Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds. of Bananas—not no driver now. Just bananas!"

Sometimes I get this crazy dream And I just take off in my car But you can travel on ten thousand miles And still stay where you are.