Bruce Hornsby - King of the Hill

Whoa, I'm leaning on a rail
Letting my eyes roam over the plain
Whoa, I'm laughing on my break
Feeling like a captive on a long chain
Watch the people pick up sticks
Big boss man cracks his whip
It's serious but we laugh to keep from crying
Whoa, crying

Spouting out the company line
Everything here's just fine
He says he cares about me but he's lying
Whoa, lying

And up, up in the big house
King of the hill

Whoa, I'm watching the boss man
Talking to his sister with the dirty hands
They sit, cussing at the rules
Wishing they could lose me as fast as they can
Got me in the roughest rig
He thinks I took his brother's gig
People say they've got the game rigged
Whoa, rigged

His daddy gave him everything
A job and a house and his earring
Why does he think that I'm so threatening?
Whoa, so bad

And up, up in the big house
King of the hill
And there, driving the big cat, king of the hill

I'm over in my space
Swatting bugs, sweat stain rolling down my face
I'm trying not to drink
Knowing I've got to roll out of this place
Watch the people pick up bricks
King of the hill with his nightstick
Caught up in accounting tricks
Throw a bone to the poor hicks
Got some candy, take a lick
Great white hope, shooting bricks
Time to let us all share the wealth
Whoa, the wealth

Getting coffee for the big stick
Hand in his pants at the skin flick
Leisure suit, but thinks he's slick
Lots of poisons, take your pick
Mama, mama, mama, come quick
Feeling like I'm getting sick
Have you noticed any nervous tics?
Think I'd better take care of myself
Whoa, myself

And up, up in the big house
King of the hill
And there, driving the big cat
King of the hill

Written by:
Bruce Hornsby

Publisher:
Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing

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