Where the Crooked Creek Lie

Jump into the cool blue water, in the heat of the night,
Drinking that poison down, gonna get good and tight,
Feel the crickets as they sing to you in the dark,
Looks like we've found a good place to park,

Yelling that Hank Williams at the top of our lungs,
Feeling that liquor on the tip of our tongues,
Watching the reflection of the moonlight shine in your eyes,
Down in our valley, were the crooked creek lies,

I can still remember that look in your eyes the day we lost Ry,
The hardest thing to do in life is to learn to say goodbye,
We kissed her for the last time before we had to let her go,
Feeling all too responsible and lower then low,

Each day we thought we'd heard her, chiming as she ran to us once more,
Not wanting to grasp the reality that she had already knocked at death's door,
Sitting there, under the stars that were now our only connection, we fell apart,
Trying to make sense of it all and mend our broken hearts,

Feeling like life wouldn't be the same, we cried for our departed Ry,
Together, yet all alone, down in our valley, were the crooked creek lies,
I come home to a mother hurting all her own,
Disapproving of my choices, doing things she did not condone,

Feel my heart break as I tell her I'm through,
Helpless to help her, not knowing what to do,
Looking into her eyes and seeing so much pain,
I knew I was selfish but no more sympathy would she gain,

I was her child torn between witnessing her sorrows and running for the door,
I couldn't put up with it, I couldn't stand to see her heart break anymore,
Helpless, I always prayed to a picture,
Begging daddy to make her feel him again, asking him to fix her,

Sitting here alone, I skip rocks on my empty thoughts, loosing the will to try,
Down in our valley, where the crooked creek lies,
I lay here now and listen to the wind,
Feeling like for some reason I have found peace from within,

I look up at the stars and see all that I desire,
Something in me changes, sets my heart on fire,
Feel like I belong here, lost among these gems,
Hearing the wind whistle through the pines like a sweet, solum hymn,

I suppose I'll remain here until the water runs dry and the old pines die,
Happy in our valley, where the crooked creek lie.

<3 Webster