[VERSE 1] The surface of this river is so tranquil, reflecting all the blue from the sky. Not a ripple betrays the water’s secret, No crashing waves to flood the shore, Nothing to signal the chaos, Down where undercurrents roar. Some rivers find their flow in calmer valleys, Meandering across the level plains. While others crave the rush of white waters, Sculpting canyons through mountains of stone. [CHORUS 1] One river looks at the other and doesn’t recognize the flow. But understanding isn’t needed when both rivers know which way to go. One path is steady, clear and open, the other meets with barriers untold. One river flows through every season, the other learns to wait out the cold. [VERSE 2] Rivers that carve out canyons originate in high mountain peaks where the beauty and calmness of winter cage the torrent racing beneath. The river remembers the ocean knows it will again course its way to the sea. But when the river becomes its own winter no amount of will can set the water free. The current knows the thaw is coming, it just can’t choose when that will be. [CHORUS 2] Something beyond the ice is shifting, a sliver of light, a subtle clue. Warmth penetrates the frozen ceiling, and the river starts to push through Meltwater traces the fractures, finding pathways it hasn’t yet explored, trickling through the crackling, waiting to break through winter’s door. [VERSE 3] When the Chinook winds call to the mountains, and break the frozen depths of winter, the river forgets it was caged it’s just free Effortless and joyful it crashes, tributaries racing to join the flow. Fuller and faster with every mile, overflowing the banks as it goes Rapids dancing where the canyon narrows, wild water winding toward the delta below. [BRIDGE] The wild waters don’t understand the trickle, the meanderer can’t understand the spree But understanding was never needed, cause every river knows its way to the sea. One river rages through the canyon, another wanders soft and slow neither one is wrong for flowing the only way it’s ever known. [FINAL CHORUS] We all will reach the ocean, we all will hear that call. There’s a beauty in knowing the journey matters more than the method at all. We can stand and admire smooth waters and how they mirror the world past their reach, While also admiring the magic of the rivers that crash, carve, and roar. There’s no wrong way to be a river, no single path to the sea. [OUTRO] None of us are wrong for flowing the only way we’ve ever known. …we’re all just water in this big wide open sea.
