The story
He keeps wading where the water should wash him clean.
He stands ankle-deep in the creek, Crocs slapping mud while the current slides past the bank like it has somewhere better to be. Whatever he came to rinse off stays with him, soaking through the joke of those bright shoes and the silence around the water. By the time he turns for shore, the creek has not let him go.
No lyric sheet is published for this track, so this reading is drawn from its title and the sound of the record.
Lyrics
The lyric sheet for this one isn't published yet — press play and listen along.