Praying to the river has fallen out of style,
But a sweet rain will clean my bones in its own good while.
Adrift in a river of melody, I meet you now in song -
A short time to sing here, such a long time gone.

I have seen into the future ‘til it looks just like the past.
They won’t make ‘em like they used to and we’ll use ‘em way too fast,
Until stars will be our headlights and water will be as wine.
Come down to the river, darling, put your hand in mine.

Now all the famous children are slowly coming home,
And the rents that they must pay are sometimes frightening.
But there are no final pages; we must live with the unknown.
And sometimes we get the light, sometimes just the lightning…

An old man from Texas used to sit me on his knee,
And talk about how when the buffalo roamed - it was something to see.
But I was born in the television age, a child of pure desire,
Schooled to find love in plastic trinkets and freedom in rubber tires

CARRY ME HOME, sweet companion
Rock me, oooh, tenderly.
Lay me away, dance and say,
“Let flowing water run free.”

Hank's Notes

I wrote this near the end of the 1970's, while living in Austin, Texas, and managing Armadillo Word Headquarters. There is little I can say about it. It's a different kind of song, and speaks for itself.

I've sung this song many times over the years. Hearing Shaidri sing it here is, for me, like hearing the song for the first time. It seems that way with every new song she embraces.

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rev. 7/13/10