Hillfoot Street

I used to work in a call-centre
now I work in a restaurant
I just bring people menus
and then they tell me what they want
And my father said I would never amount to much
I barely made it through school -
it wasn’t worth all that attention to me
And when they read out the names
I know they’ll barely even mention me
I never wanted that much
I just want it to belong to me
CHORUS:
On the late night buses all going home
the faces lit white by mobile phones -
little broken hearts and broken bones…
But there’s a little brown door on Hillfoot Street
I call my own, call my own
Me and my brothers and sisters
we had to grow up so close
We belonged to each other
down to the ends of our fingers and toes
And now we’re all scattered out
into lives of our own, I suppose.
CHORUS
Now I wash my clothes and I
hang them in my own back yard.
I don’t share that line with anyone else
I don’t share that line with anyone else
And people ask me - is that not hard?
And when I think about love
I wonder: who would look twice at me?
They say there’s someone for everyone
Yeah… well, maybe I’m the only one for me
Most nights I’m just happy
being my own company
CHORUS