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River |
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David Alan Coe |
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By M. Yonts and David Allan Coe
River, you heard my first cry as a baby
And, like my Mom, you sang me lullabies
You knew my fishing pole
When I was eight years old
And, river, you never told me lies
River, I can see you from my window
Your muddy water makes me feel alone
River, you keep flowing
Like you know just where you're going
But, River, will you ever take me home
River, I'm not proud of what I've done
Somehow my fishing pole became a gun
Through these prison bars I see
That you're still running free
But, river, I've got no place to run
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