Story Behind the Song
This is about my best friend growing up. It's funny how one of the first things we develope is a wonderful imagination. The irony is that this is something we seem to sacrafice with age. Why? OK we grow up, but what does that really mean? I must tell you that some of the best years of my life where when I was young. Didn't even know what the word cynical meant at the time. What's the saying? "A cynic is an idealist with a broken heart." I refuse to let go of some of those simple pleasures. At least the idea of those simple pleasures as they were shared by Steven and myself. To this day I strive the ability to lose myself in my own imagination as I did then. This is not an easy task, go ahead give it a try. Anyway, thank you Steven for the bond, and the memories. The willingness to approach each day as a new adventure within the limitless borderies of our small Rivertown.
Lyrics
Steven can you hear me,
We are running across this field.
Floating steps of expectation,
Near the river where we yield.
And oh I remember,
Your mother calling off our roam.
Dusk is bidding us surrender,
Rivertown, is calling us home.
Surely you can see it,
Light chasing sea across the sky.
We had gotten up real early,
Though I can't remember why.
We were off on some adventure,
To save the world, or a wagon train.
All those limitless pretenstions I am sure,
Is what has saved me from this pain.
And oh, midsummer,
She has a way of washing out.
All those dreams and wild fantasies,
A rivertown, ever dreamt about.
Bridge:
And should the day fade,
And rob the warmth from our skin.
We might run from cover,
But we'er not running from our sins.
With this rain of crimson,
Carried to us from the sea.
Comes the hush of forgivness,
Deliverance for you and me.
Steven can you hear me,
We are running across this field.
Oh the one down behing my house,
Near the river were it yields.
And I know that you are with me,
Though through the years we have grown.
Through the blood we'll be together,
When rivertown, calls us home.
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