All the pathways of my logic are leading to you.    But the river in my hands is plagued by back flow.    I stopped trusting men a long time ago.    So how can I trust what they have wrote..   about you.    So I will hide in the river with my quiver, and my bow.    Hunting truth, never telling where I go.   Seven waters lead to the river, and my tongue is forked like a snake.    Don't let me go get turned around in the lake.    I know you know the truth about what I know where I go.