Across the street the river runs.
Down in the guter life is slipping away.
Let me still exist in another place,
Running down under cover
Of a helicopter blade.
.
.
The flames are getting higher
In effigy.
Burning down the bridges of my memory.
Love may still alive
somewhere someday
where they're downing only deer
a hundred steel towns away.


Oh, rhythm of my heart
is beating like a drum
with the words "I Love you"
rolling off my tongue.
No never will I roam,
for I know my place is home.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
I'll be sailing.


Photographs and kerosene
light up my darkness,
light it up,
light it up.
I can still feel the touch
of your thin blue jeans.
Running down the alley,
I've got my eyes all over you, baby.
Oh, baby..
.
.
Oh, the rhythm of my heart
is beating like a drum
with the words "I Love you"
rolling off my tongue.
No never will I roam,
for I know my place is home.
.
.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
I'll be sailing.


Oh, yeah...


Oh, I've got lightning in my veins,
shifting like the handle
of a slot machine.
Love may still exist
in another place.
I'm just yanking back the handle,
no expression on my face...


Oh, the rhythm of my heart
is beating like a drum
with the words "I Love you"
rolling off my tongue.
No never will I roam,
for I know my place is home.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
I'll be sailing.


Oh, the rhythm of my heart
is beating like a drum
with the words "I Love you"
rolling off my tongue.
No never will I roam,
for I know my place is home.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
I'll be sailing.


The rhythm of my heart
is beating like a drum
with the words "I Love you" rolling off my tongue.
No never will I roam,
for I know my place is home.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
I'll be sailing.





I'll never swim Kern River again.
It was there that I met her.It was there that I lost my best friend.
And now I live in the mountains.I drifted up here with the wind.
And I may drown in still water, But I'll never swim Kern River again.
I grew up in an oil town,But my gusher never came in.
And the river was a boundary,Where my darlin' and I used to swim.
One night in the moonlight,The swiftness swept her life away.
And now I live on Lake Shasta, And Lake Shasta is where I will stay.
There's the South San Joaquin,Where the seeds of the dust bowl are found.
And there's a place called Mount Whitney,From where the mighty Kern River comes down.
Now, it's not deep nor wide,But it's a mean piece of water, my friend.
And I may cross on the highway, But I'll never swim Kern River again.
I'll never swim Kern River again.
It was there that I met her.It was there that I lost my best friend.
And now I live in the mountains.I drifted up here with the wind.
And I may drown in still water, But I'll never swim Kern River again.
Instrumental break.I'll never swim Kern River again.
An' it was there that I met her.It was there that I lost my best friend.
Now I live in the mountains.I drifted up here with the wind.
And I may drown in still water, But I'll never swim Kern River again.
Bring the good ol' Bugle boys! We'll sing another song,
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along,
Sing it like we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia


Hurrah! Hurrah! We bring the Jubilee.
Hurrah! Hurrah! The flag that makes you free,
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful sound,
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found,
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
While we were marching through Georgia.


Yes and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia.


"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never make the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said and 'twas a handsome boast
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the Host
While we were marching through Georgia.


So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train,
Sixty miles of latitude, three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain
While we were marching through Georgia.