Not much of this makes sense to me.
The river leaves run cold and dry.
But it keeps me from swinging from tree to tree,
And sometimes I'm to scared to even try.

Passing through the possibilities,
They seem as endless as the sky.
You seek the truth in a quiet breeze,
But the air is to thin to reply.

Well I know that's where I'll never be,
Cause I can see the summer's done.
I try to let the river flow in and out of me.
And pray I float the way I think I want,
And pray I float at all.

Distant notions of subtle residue,
Cing to minds from our past.
Tell us what is what, and who made who,
But time's events move us too fast.

Simple sentiment whisked away by anxious steel wool,
Struggling to content ourselves with what we think best.
That what makes happy of what we seem never full,
Is actually more than plenty, but it is already possessed.

Well I know that's where I'll never be,
Cause I can see the summer's done.
I try to let the river flow in and out of me.
And pray I float the way I think I want,
And pray I float at all.

Not much of this makes sense to me.
The river leaves run cold and dry.
But it keeps me from swinging from tree to tree,
And sometimes I'm to scared to even try.

Ultra confusion feigns clarity,
Scattered delusion excuses destiny.
It's never exactly what it appears to be.
Too much for any of us to even try,
Try to see.

Well I know that's where I'll never be,
Cause I can see the summer's done.
I try to let the river flow in and out of me.
And pray I float the way I think I want,
And pray I float at all.