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lyrics
A young man’s a river,
He’s wild and strong,
Sometimes he runs careless,
Sometimes he is calm.
Don’t know where he’s going,
But you can see where he’s been,
It’s there in the waves right behind,
Like a driftwood bridge.
The soft yellow light that kept the monsters home,
That blue plastic razor that made him feel grown,
The strange regal air of his Grandfather’s chair,
Always on guard even though he’s never there,
Those crowfoot lines by his father’s eyes,
That always seemed to him like footprints of a smile,
And floating in the back after those branches have passed,
A small paper note,
The first song that he wrote to a breeze,
Before it blew off to sea.
The Old West Wind came blowing,
He came like a ghost,
Who floated from somewhere off of the coast,
He said, “Son you’re just starting,
And have a long way to go,
Always remember those things that you know:
Like the soft yellow light that kept the monsters home
That blue plastic razor that made you feel grown,
The strange regal air of your Grandfather’s chair,
Always on guard even though he’s never there,
Those crowfoot lines by your father’s eyes,
That always seemed to you like footprints of a smile,
And floating in the back after those branches have passed,
A small paper note,
The first song that you wrote.”
A young man’s a river,
He’s wild and strong,
Sometimes he runs careless,
Sometimes he’s calm.
He’s a part of everywhere that he flows,
Till he’s emptied out at the coast.
He’s wild and strong,
Sometimes he runs careless,
Sometimes he is calm.
Don’t know where he’s going,
But you can see where he’s been,
It’s there in the waves right behind,
Like a driftwood bridge.
The soft yellow light that kept the monsters home,
That blue plastic razor that made him feel grown,
The strange regal air of his Grandfather’s chair,
Always on guard even though he’s never there,
Those crowfoot lines by his father’s eyes,
That always seemed to him like footprints of a smile,
And floating in the back after those branches have passed,
A small paper note,
The first song that he wrote to a breeze,
Before it blew off to sea.
The Old West Wind came blowing,
He came like a ghost,
Who floated from somewhere off of the coast,
He said, “Son you’re just starting,
And have a long way to go,
Always remember those things that you know:
Like the soft yellow light that kept the monsters home
That blue plastic razor that made you feel grown,
The strange regal air of your Grandfather’s chair,
Always on guard even though he’s never there,
Those crowfoot lines by your father’s eyes,
That always seemed to you like footprints of a smile,
And floating in the back after those branches have passed,
A small paper note,
The first song that you wrote.”
A young man’s a river,
He’s wild and strong,
Sometimes he runs careless,
Sometimes he’s calm.
He’s a part of everywhere that he flows,
Till he’s emptied out at the coast.
credits
license
all rights reserved
tags
discography
-
Nov 2011 -
Feb 2011 -
Dec 2010 -
Jul 2010 -
Jun 2009
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