That Old River
Look at that old river, sitting there so still
Full of fear, almost frightening - got to get
to that old river tonight somehow.
Freedom calls for me tonight, dreams only of old
dusty fields - no more, no more at last - got
to get to that old river somehow.
Is that biscuits I smell in that old kitchen - not
tonight I cry - across that old river tonight before
I die. Out the door I began feeling the warm breeze