There's a graveyard in my family that only comes up for air in October. Granddad signed the bottomland over in '59 when the state came through with a dam and a check, and every fall since, the lake drops and the old town rises — rooftops, road grades, and that white steeple pointing at the sky like it never got the memo. Folks around the lake call it drawdown. I call it a memory that keeps its appointment.

This one's a Sunday porch ballad — fingerpicked guitar, dobro sighing underneath, soft strings around the edges. It's about the year I brought my little girl down to the waterline to show her where Main Street used to run, and she asked the question that stopped me cold: were the folks sad when the water shut the door? The answer turned out to be the whole song. They didn't lose their town. They lent it to the shore.

Turn it up slow. — Waylon

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Granddad signed the bottomland in fifty-nine

The state came through with money and a chalk-drawn line

They moved the graves to higher ground in rows of kissin' stone

And the river backed up patient till the old road drowned alone

[Chorus]

And every fall the level drops a foot or two or three

And the steeple breaks the surface like a risin' memory

No bell in it, no people, just white bones against the sky

But a drowned town don't stay drowned when the water says goodbye

[Verse 2]

We skied down Main Street every summer, me and Cousin Joe

Never asked about the addresses, never thought to know

Grandma only drove out in October, quiet as a prayer

Watchin' for a rooftop like she'd left somebody there

[Chorus]

And every fall the level drops a foot or two or three

And the steeple breaks the surface like a risin' memory

No bell in it, no people, just white bones against the sky

But a drowned town don't stay drowned when the water says goodbye

[Bridge]

The dam men call it drawdown, water budget, drought and flow

Machinery and paperwork, the ledger's all they know

But I've seen that steeple point at heaven like a hymn startin' slow

I don't believe the water takes — I believe it's holdin' on

[Whistle]

[Verse 3]

I brought my little daughter down to show her where it rose

Told her 'bout the gristmill, the mercantile, the road

She asked me if the folks were sad when the water shut the door

I said, "They didn't lose their town, they lent it to the shore"

[Chorus]

And every fall the level drops a foot or two or three

And the steeple breaks the surface like a risin' memory

No bell in it, no people, just white bones against the sky

But a drowned town don't stay drowned when the water says goodbye

[Outro]

So lay me on the hillside when my ramblin' days are through

Where I can watch the steeple when the October drawdown's due

And if you wonder where I've gone, don't you grieve me down below

I'm just waitin' on the season when the water lets go

Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio