Riverside

Gonna drive 600 hundred miles tonight just to see the snow.

But before I go we head to the river to pass some time and say goodbyes.

Water’s dryin’ up but she laughs and says, “Still feels like we’re drownin’ anyways.”

Oh God please. This must be a joke.

We can’t go on hidin’, can’t spend time ridin’ out this tired conversation throwing around these kinda things.

We got thirty minutes to try and make it right. It’s your move babe, but this ain’t what you think it is.

Throw me a line, let me disappear. The way you say things feels so forced, insincere.

But oh god you try, fumbling over your words, while I sit there in a blank stare.

Let’s walk I say, and things start change.

Remember me in Philly and the way you used to greet me on days my head hung low.

Remember empty promises and long stretches of time we spent down here alone.

This ain’t over, but its time we set out for bolder things.

We’re not drownin’ babe. This water we can breathe.