Quit These Hills

He quit these hills long before he had the right
The wind whipped up to cart his remains away one night
The sun came up on the smoldering truck [?]
And the Post ran a story no one read twice
But she did
She did

So she quit these hills looking thirty years beyond her own gray
Yellowed and old like everything else we packed off to a new place
And her son fell down, back on those hills of hers [?]
Not a word if she minded, and no one asked twice
But she did
She did