| Black clay on my mind
|
| Out of touch, out of time
|
| No concrete or yellow lanes
|
| Just bare feet and knotted vines
|
| Find me standing on the edge of the Colorado
|
| Live oak- and cedar-kissed
|
| From Boggy Creek to Montopolis
|
| We’ll never know how much we missed
|
| A hundred years before this
|
| Find me standing on the edge of the Colorado
|
| I wanna go back to a river town
|
| Before the age of the runaround
|
| To that moment I can hear my mama
|
| Calling me back home
|
| Find me standing on the edge of the Colorado
|
| High speed obsession
|
| My sense of direction is gone
|
| Constant connections
|
| Got me further from where I belong
|
| You never can go back, it seems
|
| You never know what nothing means
|
| Turn off the phone, turn out the light
|
| I’ll meet you in my dreams tonight
|
| Find me standing on the edge of the Colorado
|
| I wanna go back to a river town
|
| Before the age of the runaround
|
| To that moment I can hear my mama
|
| Calling me back home |