| Not much of this makes sense to me
|
| The river leaves run cold and dry
|
| But it keeps me from swinging from tree to tree
|
| And sometimes I’m too scared to even try
|
| Hashing through the possibilities
|
| They seem as endless as the sky
|
| You seek the truth in the quiet breeze
|
| But the air is too thin to reply
|
| Well I know that’s where I’ll never be
|
| 'Cause I can see the summer’s done
|
| I try to let the river flow in and out of me
|
| And pray I float the way I think I want
|
| And pray I float at all
|
| Distant notions of subtle residue
|
| Cling to minds from our past
|
| Tell us what is what and who made who
|
| But time’s events move us too fast
|
| Simple sentimenst whisked away by anxious steel wool
|
| Struggling to content ourselves with what we think best
|
| That what makes happy of which we seem never full
|
| Is actually more than plenty for it is already possessed
|
| Well I know that’s where I’ll never be
|
| 'Cause I can see the summer’s done
|
| I try to let the river flow in and out of me
|
| And pray I float the way I think I want
|
| And pray I float at all
|
| Not much of this makes sense to me
|
| The river leaves run cold and dry
|
| But it keeps me from swinging from tree to tree
|
| And sometimes I’m too scared to even try
|
| Ultra confusion feigns clarity
|
| Scattered delusion excuses destiny
|
| It’s never exactly how it appears to be
|
| Too much for any of us to even try
|
| Try to see
|
| Well I know that’s where I’ll never be
|
| 'Cause I can see the summer’s done
|
| I try to let the river flow in and out of me
|
| And pray I float the way I think I want
|
| And pray I float at all |