[Roots Rock - 92 BPM - Baritone Male Vocal] [Verse 1] There’s an old river bending past the county line, Carrying years in the mud and the reeds. Every bend has a story, every stone has a name, Every ripple remembers what nobody needs. They hauled timber down from the northern hills, Loaded freight when the town was young. Some went under in a hard black rain, Some never made it home again. [Pre-Chorus] And the water rolls on, Like it don't know a thing, But the deep holds tight To whatever you bring. [Chorus] What the river keeps, it don't confess, It buries the truth in the darkness. Broken hulls, lost souls, Iron sunk in the clay, Things men swore would never see the light of day. You can wash your hands, You can change your name, But the river keeps the record all the same. [Verse 2] There's a freight ship resting under silt, Ribs of rust beneath the current. A deckhand's watch, a cargo chain, Fragments scattered like forgotten names. Then came men with a different trade, Moving stolen guns beneath tarps and crates. When the law got close, they cut the line, Sent their evidence into the black deep tide. [Pre-Chorus] And the water rolls on, Past the reeds and stone, Holding every secret That was meant to stay unknown. [Chorus] What the river keeps, it don't confess, It buries the truth in the darkness. Broken hulls, lost souls, Iron sunk in the clay, Things men swore would never see the light of day. You can wash your hands, You can change your name, But the river keeps the record all the same. [Verse 3] There are bones beneath the silt down there, And names scratched out from an old affair. Some were victims, some ran bad, Some disappeared with the things they had. Sheriff's files turned brown with age, Newspapers faded on a basement page. But every flood cuts a little more, And brings old evidence up to shore. [Bridge] One day the river may give it back, A rusted barrel, a weathered sack. A piece of a hull, a ring, a gun, Proof of the things that somebody done. No witness speaks beneath that ground, No living voice can make a sound. Still every current, every stone, Carries pieces of the dead back home. [Final Chorus] What the river keeps, it don't confess, It buries the truth in the darkness. Broken hulls, lost souls, Iron sunk in the clay, Things men swore would never see the light of day. You can bury the past, You can bury the blame, But the river keeps the record all the same. [Outro] So let that old river roll, Let it drag its secrets slow. There's a history beneath that brown-black skin, And sooner or later, Something rises again.
