If we're lucky we feel our lives   know when the next scene arrives   so often we start in the middle and work our way out      we go to some grey sky diner for eggs and toast   New York Times or the New York Post   then we take a ride through the valley of the shadow of death   but even for us New Yorkers, there's a time in every day   the river takes our breath away      And the Hudson, it holds the life   we thought we did it on our own      The river roads collect the tolls   for the passage of our souls   through silence, over woods, through flowers and snow   and past the George Washington Bridge,   down from the trails of Breakneck Ridge,   the river's ancient path is sacred and slow      And as it swings through Harlem,   it's every shade of blue   into the city of the new brand new      And the Hudson, it holds the life   we thought we did it on our own   I thought I had no sense of place or past   time was too slow, but then too fast   the river takes us home at last      Where and when does the memory take hold,   mountain range in the Autumn cold   and I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring.   If you're lucky you'll find something that reflects you,   helps you feel your life protects you,   cradles you and connects you to everything.   This whole life I remember as they begged them to itself   never turn me into someone else      And the Hudson, it holds the life   we thought we did it on our own      And the Hudson, holds the life   we thought we did it on our own