| Ten miles to save my name
|
| Steel crosses cold as stone
|
| Looking like a gambler throwing coins away
|
| I’m feeling so displaced
|
| You’re painting candy on my faith
|
| You’re so convincing, I am so ashamed
|
| Riverrun softly through
|
| The hands of people without toys
|
| Riverrun boldly through Vanity Fair
|
| Riverrun cold, riverrun slow
|
| Riverrun free with the wind in your hair
|
| Life from the turn of the stairs
|
| I’ve felt the mountain rain
|
| I’ve seen it nurse a thousand veins
|
| I’ve watched the rivulets of silent grace
|
| But now my memory strains
|
| To wash its hands in muddy streams
|
| As I sit fishing by a dying tree
|
| Riverrun softly through
|
| The hands of people without toys
|
| Riverrun boldly through Vanity Fair
|
| Riverrun cold, riverrun slow
|
| Riverrun free with the wind in your hair
|
| Life from the turn of the stairs
|
| It’s hard to know your place
|
| Look down and people call you brave
|
| Look up and people tell you what to say
|
| Don’t throw my words away
|
| Don’t even try to paraphrase
|
| Some words are spoken best from broken frames
|
| Riverrun softly through
|
| The hands of people without toys
|
| Riverrun boldly through Vanity Fair
|
| Riverrun cold, riverrun slow
|
| Riverrun free with the wind in your hair
|
| Life from the turn of the stairs |