River Mud Blues
Woke up by the river,
mud still on my hands.
Ain’t got much to carry,
just the weight of where I am.
The morning sun was rising,
slow across the fields—
you learn a lot ’bout living
when you’ve lost what life reveals.
Down by the water,
hear that old river cry.
Low voices in the timber,
like a sermon in the sky.
Oh brother, keep on walking,
’cause the blues won’t let you choose.
We’re all just trying to find our way
through the river mud blues.
Met a man in Jackson,
said he once had everything.
Now he plays a broken guitar
with a voice that knows the sting.
He sang about forgiveness,
about the things he couldn’t hide—
and I could hear the Delta calling
from the other side.
Lead: Oh Lord, can you hear me?
Response: Hear you calling from the ground.
Lead: I’m a long way from salvation—
Response: But the river brings you ’round.
Down by the water,
hear that old river cry.
Low voices in the timber,
like a sermon in the sky.
Oh brother, keep on walking,
’cause the blues won’t let you choose.
We’re all just trying to find our way
through the river mud blues.
When the night winds whisper,
and the world feels worn and used—
I follow that muddy heartbeat
of the river mud blues.
S.
Song: https://www.ganjingworld.com/s/xrY6wkaNe6