River’s Only Judge

The stars are still hanging

like porch lights on the dark

I’m pulling on a jacket,

leaving a cold, damp mark

On the bench seat of this tin boat,

rusted through the floor

Trading my sanity for one more day on this shore.

The engine coughs a prayer,

then catches in the gloom

Cutting through the silence

of this watery tomb.

(ahhhh) And the river don’t care

about the debts I owe

It just takes what I give it

and tells me to go,

slow

With the mud on my hands

and the line in the breeze

I’m finding my heaven

down here on my knees

Yeah, the river’s the only judge I’ve ever known. (yeah)

My knuckles are raw,

and the line’s tangled tight

A map of my failures

from the heat of the night

The billabong’s glass, not a ripple in sight

Just me and the ghost

of a dream taking flight.

I’ve left all the noise of the city behind

In the deep, dark water,

that’s where I’m defined.

(the river is the only judge) (hummmm)