Where the river don't flow
by Steven Clotzman

Another restless sleep last night
The burden of my load
And in darkness came a light
Said, “give the man his money or just hit the road!”
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things that I can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

The thunder shook me out of bed,
But pretty soon it passed.
When out of nowhere someone said,
“Better run for cover ‘cause it may not last.”
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

Put on my shoes, ran to the door
The scene outside was grim
A TV newsman boldly swore
“Praise the Lord! It’s time to take that swim.”
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

River of sludge, river of oil
River of sweat, and river of toil
They ran into each other like a river unblessed
I was thinking, this is it, but that was just a guess.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

The water rising on the shore
Was possibly a sign.
Some cared less, and some cared more,
And some said the difference wasn’t worth the time.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

Naked people ran around,
A woman called to me,
Said, “You once were lost, but now you’re found,”
I said, “I knew it, this is all a dream.”
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

“But everything that’s born must die,”
She said it with a smile
I said, “you sure?” and she asked, “why?”
I shrugged and thanked her for the extra mile.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

The poets sang, “Behold the new!”
Amid the darkened sky
The headlines read, “Our city’s through!”
I set the paper down and rubbed my eyes.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

They built a tower way up high
Of concrete, glass and steel
But tumbling down, no one asked why
They just took it in like the Lord revealed.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

they uniformed the school kids,
And gathered up the strays
I realized we’d hit the skids
I got down on my knees, began to pray.
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

I said, “Lord, you’re good, Lord, you’re great
As gods go, you stand alone.
But man, you’re running awfully late
And if you ain’t gonna make it, at least pick up the phone.”
It makes me want to know, my friend,
The things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
To a place where this river don’t flow.

A friend drops by from day to day
To talk about his dreams
“The numbness come and go,” he says
“But don’t you think for a second that it’s what it seems”
And it makes me want to know, my friend,
the things I just can’t know.
It makes me want to go, my friend
to a place where this river don’t flow.


© 2004 & 2005 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved