Late on a Friday, my husband went up
To the mountains with three friends
They took provisions and bottles of bourbon
To last them all through the weekend
One hundred miles they drove
Just to fish in a stream
And there's so much water, so close to home

When they arrived, it was cold and dark
They set up their camp quickly
Warmed up with whiskey, they walked to the river
Where the water flowed past darkly
In the moonlight they saw the body
Of a girl floating face down
And there's so much water, so close to home

When he holds me now, I'm pretending
I feel like I'm frozen inside
And behind my eyes, my daily disguise
Everything's turning to white

It was too hard to tell how long she'd been dead
The river was that close to freezing
But one thing for sure
The girl hadn't died very well to judge from the bruising
They stood there above her all thinking
The same thoughts at the same time
There's so much water, so close to home

So this is what they did
They carried her downstream from their fishing
Between two smooth rocks, they gently wedged her
After all, it was late, and they'd come a long way
The girl would keep, she was going nowhere
They stayed up there fishing for two days
They reported it on Sunday when they came back down
There's so much water, so close to home

When he holds me now, I'm pretending
Nothing is working inside
And behind my eyes, my daily disguise
Everything's turning to white

The newspapers said that the girl had been strangled
To death and also molested
On the day of the funeral the radio reported
That a young man had been arrested
I went to the service a stranger
I drove past the lake out of town
There's so much water, so close to home

When he holds me now I'm pretending
I feel like I'm frozen inside
And behind my eyes, my daily disguise
Everything's turning to white

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Paul Maurice Kelly