Akit's Hill

She’s an old machine, worn and bent
With the paint scratched off in an accidental dent
Driving down the wrong side of the road
With bad breaks and a heavy load
It’s dark with the lights off
Radio on and our fingers crossed
Ooh, It’s a coin toss
Half a mile from Johnson’s Mill
At the top of Akit’s Hill
The other with an accent, flashy dashboard
Never seen one of those before
Coming up the far side of the hill
We’re at the top hanging around
Looking out at the lake and the stars
There’s ice and fire and the sound of braking tires
Ooh, It’s a crossfire
Half a mil from Johnson’s Mill
At the top of Akit’s Hill
I can see fire
Ther was nothing I could do
And I knew that he knew it too
I could see it when he turned the wheel
There is nothing I can say
About Akit’s Hill at the end of the day
There’s nothing I could swear was true
Half a mile from Johnson’s Mill
At the top of Akit’s Hill
I can see fire at the bottom
I can see fire at the bottom
I can see fire at the bottom of Akit’s Hill (I can see fire at the bottom)
Bottom of Akit’s Hill (I can see fire at the bottom)
Bottom of Akit’s Hill (I can see fire at the bottom)
Bottom of Akit’s Hill