I Remember Her sing and play along

There's a house

that's not on a hill,

and the paint's chipping off

of the old windowsill.

There's a tree in the front yard that's older than me,

and older than all of you.

There's a smell that the heat makes;

it reminds me of Christmas,

and birthdays in December.

I remember her.

I remember her.

I remember her so well.

I remember her.

I remember her.

I remember her so well.

But things, they fade.

She would kiss my hand,

she would kiss my head,

then she'd fall asleep with me

in my tiny bed.

She would sing me lullabies, gave me my hazel eyes,

and then she'd call me beautiful.

She made me beautiful.

I refade.

Things turn to grey.

As much as I try to save them,

they turn to grey.

Just like the house

that's not on a hill,

with all of the rust on the gate and chips on the sill.

But I love it still.