Well, the wind tells a story if you listen close Whisperin' secrets that the old oaks composed And I'm tired of runnin' down those well-worn tracks No, there ain't no future in just lookin' back I saw an old man sitting by the pier Counting the ripples of a fading year He smiled and he said, "Son, don't hold your breath Life is a journey, not a race to death" So I’m packing my shadows and leaving the floor Walking right out of that heavy wood door And I'll follow the river where the wild waters flow To the quietest places that the dreamers all know With a song in my pocket and the sun on my face I’m finally finding my own piece of grace The highway is long and the neon is bright But it can't match the stars on a midsummer night I’ve traded the noise for the sound of the rain Washing away all the dust of the pain And I'll follow the river where the wild waters flow To the quietest places that the dreamers all know With a song in my pocket and the sun on my face I’m finally finding my own piece of grace Just a piece of grace... Where the wild waters flow...
