Cool river awaits to cleanse this cruel-palette December
that's planting seeds in my brain all the way up to Austin.
I'm a mess of a man. I build homes with rocks and dirt from the land.

And love washes my face like the course scraping of Brillo pads,
and plays tricks on my pillow, planting dreams like presents on Jesus Day.
I'm a mess of a man. I don't think my actions are never planned.

So call me a cab and i'll take a bus
and find me the road i've been standing on
and find me a friend.

Lyrics submitted by headphones on

The Gardiner song meanings
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