Sorrow is a lonesome river,
she feeds a deep blue sea.
She'll take all the tears you give her;
open the gates and set her free.

When it rains in Georgia,
it's flooding sacred ground.
From Augusta to Savannah,
that's holy water coming down.

Lift your chin up off your chest,
raise your eyes up to the sky.
The flood has reached its crest,
let the warm sun sanctify.

Sorrow is a lonesome river,
she feeds a deep blue sea.
She'll take all the tears you give her;
open the gates and set her free.

r ~ 5/16/14