# Down Where the Water Turns Black
## The Story Behind the Song
I grew up on the edges of bayou country, the kind of place where the land doesn't fully commit to being land. Half of it's water, half of it's mud, and all of it has a memory longer than yours. When I was young, my grandfather used to warn me about going too deep into the swamp after dark—not because of gators or…
Don’t go down… Where the water turns black… Cypress knees like broken bones, River hums in low-tone groans. Moonlight caught in dead man’s eyes, Swamp don’t speak—but it don’t lie. Bootsteps slow in sinking ground, Something moves but makes no sound. You don’t look, you don’t ask why— You just keep your head down low. I seen things I can’t unsee, And they still walk next to me. DOWN WHERE THE WATER TURNS BLACK Ain’t no road that leads you back Every sin you tried to hide Still waits for you inside DOWN WHERE THE WATER TURNS BLACK Time don’t move—it just attacks You can pray or you can run— But you ain’t the only one Heard a preacher lose his name, Saw him drown without a flame. He said “Son, don’t trust the ground— Some souls never get found.” Every tree got something tied, Every root holds something died. Swamp don’t judge, it just keeps score— Takes a little… leaves you more. DOWN WHERE THE WATER TURNS BLACK… You don’t drown all at once… It’s slow… Like something pulling at your boots… Like something remembering you… Instrumental (slide + low drone) Final Chorus (slow, haunting) DOWN WHERE THE WATER TURNS BLACK Still feel it at my back Every breath I ever took Still written in that book DOWN WHERE THE WATER TURNS BLACK I ain’t never going back…
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