Lyrics

Ride each muddy wave upon
The swift hiawassee
An ancient and swelling song
Carries you home

How long will you wait until
The flood water passes
Into the mangrove mills
(Will there be) mass misgivings

Only your wheat will grow
Wild amaranth lingers
Rivers again your roads
The tree trunks your fingers

These eyes grow dim
These hands grow cold
What will be left for you when I am too old

Everything will change