i live on the west side of this country
where houses make sense of homes
i live on the best side of this country
where there are still places to roam
where do you want to go?
where can i take you?
as the west coast grows fonder of you
i live at the foot of Teresa's Hill
on the top is my grandmother's home
believe that even since her sad passing
with her memory i will never be alone
why does she have to go?
why can't she stay here?
all the west coast will be missing her
hope resides in the rain my friend
choose a home
make it better while you can
i grew up on fairy tales on the hill
but my youth were spent in the park
i grew up to learn that memories matter
it tightens my grip on reality's spark
why did i want to go when i was safe there?
on the west coast where it's beautiful.