My friend, won’t you have salt within? Let’s spend the winter in our own little den. I was walking down by the river and I saw god and I started to shiver and I ain’t talking about no bearded man, I’m talking about what I can see.
And that’s what surrounds me and I know she’s there and I know she cares. And I know it hurts and you don’t deserve to be nailed up on that sentinel perch because not far from here I was stabbed from behind, I laid on the banks till my blood bled dry, smiling at the sunshine underneath a sugar pine, until the winter currents took me away.
And oh I wish I could stay but I must be on my way, we’ll meet again one day?
Cold thoughts grow and the leaves they blow, one day you wake up man and what do you know: Cold and old I have grown, misanthrope nights I have surely known. Let’s rename the river and give her a crown of moss and feathers, man.
Then we’ll float down.
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