Waiting. Waiting by all these dry vines. Yes, I've been waiting, waiting, Lord, For the river-tide to pass on by. And I know it ain't rolled by yet, Because my ankles and my feet are still wet And got that same subtle feeling Behind my ears. Riding. Riding on a mountain goat. But I've been saving, saving, Lord, Saving up to buy myself a speedboat. So that I can leave this land, Put that ever-loving throttle in my hand And get that same subtle feeling That I've been searching for for years. Waiting On a Sunday afternoon. Yes, I know it's Sunday, Lord, Sunday, But I like it in the afternoon. Come Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday I've got too much to do, And Thursday, Friday, Saturday come I get that same subtle feeling That I've been searching for for years. Searching for for years. Riding on a billy-goat, saving up to buy myself a speedboat. Yes, I've been riding on a billy-goat, saving up to buy myself a speedboat. So that we can leave this land. Put that ever-loving throttle in my hand And get that same subtle feeling. That we've been searching for for years.