On the first blank page of a story
Where no feet have walked before
The stones ill step are staring at me
Drawing footprints toward the shore
Furrowed brow on the bank of a river
Watching all the fools float away
Upon their whim and swift obedience
To whatever the culture may say
But I
I
I will not be swept away
When the old dam breaks ill be ready
As the deep cries out to deep
And the breakers of tribulation and trial wash over me
But I
I
I will not be swept away
When the old dam breaksand it will
Ill be ready as the deep cries out
As the white waters come
Ill be strong
Ill be strong
As the river flows on
I
I
I will not be swept away
I
I
I will not be swept away
