We'd pile in a car with no A .C.
And point it east into the heat
Across the Central Valley
We'd drive our mama near insane
Till she'd pull off of that big four lane
We started up the winding road
About halfway to the mountain top
By a rustic cabin with the shutters locked
Sure it was cooler, but still damn hot
The river was just a few miles from there
Just a ways down the winding road,
And the river runs through
sliding past great granite boulders,
smooth and warm as giant shoulders.
so the fish can't even claim her.
And I can't find the wiping roll
On a long and dusty old dirt track
We'd walk to the river and then
Stopping to talk to every horse
Every friendly dog and every cat
In the water ditch along the road
we'd hide from the sun and dangle our toes
and then we'd start up the winding road
and that river runs through
sliding past great granite boulders
smooth and warm as giant shoulders
so the fish can't even claim her
And I can't find the whining road
Roaring up the highway past
In this air -conditioned automobile
And it's four -lane concrete
They've straightened the curves
They've covered up the winding road
But that river runs through
Sliding past great granite boulders
Smooth and warm his giant shoulders
So the fish can't even claim her
And I can't find the winding road
No, I can't find the one to
