This Old River always takes the long way around
She was chirping like a canary all along her grassy banks
The rain and all the thunder started pushing up some waves
It’s been days and two feet later that the river starts to peak
All the ways of getting out of here have one by one taken their leave
There is a beauty in the glory of the water as it roars
There is a way to watch it coming like somebody else’s story
There have been days I might have left her but I always stayed to look
There are ways that this can end well, but I count fewer and fewer.
She was filling up with rainfall
She was riding out the storm
She was sped up ever higher
She was ragged, she was torn
This Old River always knows the long way around
If I had a mighty mainsail that could capture all these winds
With the sails puffed out like parachutes straining not to spin
And a crew to play the ropes out like those hobo sailors do
But I’ve just got this old row boat and I lost an oar or two
She’s a powerful mighty river that’s been pummeled by these gods
Of lightning and of thunder and of everything that falls
From these gray and black and white skies that push down from above
But I can tell that she kind of likes the power of this flood
Call me Noah, call me Jonah, call me a search and rescue team
I’ve stuck on my own island that used to be a dream
All the power’s gone to nature, none left for us down here
I kind of liked that it was warming but it was never quite this near
She was filling up with rainfall
She was riding out the storm
She was sped up ever higher
She was raging, she was strong
This Old River sometimes goes just wherever she flows