J. Tillman Follow

Mother red river she wind like a copperhead
Coils and boils over dennison dam
Little white houses, eggs on the rocky bed
I am the sun of the serpent, I am

Raised on the river, washed in the blood
Blood run thickerthan bottomland muc
And the wheel sinks deeper as the years spin 'round
Thirty bad summers in tillman county

My uncle little tree dreams of another life
Coddles his cattle and he rents his range
Holds the fan to the face of his pretty wife
She knows nothing ain't ever gonna change, she was

Raised on the river…

Daylight's dragon fenceline keeps me working in this trance

We don't stand a chance
Chikasha trickster call to the funnel cloud
Demon come screamin over Wichita falls
Lines down, power out, ryan and points south
Time and direction don't matter all when you're

Raised on the river…

Maybe old moses come and turn this current back
Cross me over ever holy and dry
Climb me a crooked oak, scar-faced, bible-black
Swing this shovel till it cracks the sky, I was

Raised on the river…