'Down, Down, Stream' by Zach Bryan – Lyrics & Meaning

Zach Bryan has made a habit of starting his albums with a spoken-word poem, with the ‘Revival’ hitmaker opting for this approach for both Zach Bryan and The Great American Bar Scene. These tend to carry a philosophical bent, with Bryan reflecting on the various late-night conversations, hot summer road-trips, impassioned nights and near-death experiences that have coloured the past 12 months.

You can hear the influence of Bryan's favourite writer, Jack Kerouac, throughout his discography, but particularly on this spoken-word intro to his 2026 album, With Heaven On Top. Over the course of ‘Down, Down, Stream’, Bryan recounts a dream he has after meeting the previous owner of his New York City apartment, with this tale spiralling into an transcendental, Buddhist reflection on life's currents.

Bryan resists the temptation to add any instrumentation to ‘Down, Down, Stream’, with the Oklahoma native's deep, weary voice reverberating out into the abyss as he regales listeners with the wistful tale. Nonetheless, there is an enchanting, deliberate rhythm to his poetic musings, making this a peaceful, soothing opening to the album.

Over the course of ‘Down, Down, Stream’, Bryan recalls an encounter with the former owner of his New York flat. The elderly gentleman shares some of his life story with Bryan, lamenting how he feels as though most of it passed him by like a stream of water.

“We talked for a bit and he took me around the corner and told me everything had gone down, down stream from him

Like that cold water of his life had gone up his back, down his front, and around his legs

And before he could drink any of it, it'd already passed him by”

This water metaphor quickly emerges as the cornerstone of the poem, with Bryan using the image of water flowing around and beneath him as a way of conveying how many feel as though their life moves past them, without having much control or intentionality over what happens. The elderly man uses this turn-of-phrase in a negative way, but Bryan embraces it as a positive, as he closes his eyes and pictures all the events of his life - painful and joyful - washing over him.

He gains freedom and acceptance from the feeling of all his memories and past actions flowing away from him “down stream”, rather than feeling burdened and weighed down by them.

Water is used in both Buddhist and Taoist traditions to symbolise how we should strive to move in accordance with the flow of life, rather than trying to impose our own beliefs and desires on it. In these belief systems, each person is framed as a mere drop in the ocean, and when we die, we return to the serenity of the ocean.

“I went home after drinkin' with him a bit, made a pallet and a fire on the floor and closed my eyes right there in the middle of one of the coldest nights Manhattan had seen all winter

I imagined my dog Jack and me back home cuttin' through some Oklahoman landscape with greens, moisture, and heat and finding some screen right there in the clearin'

He jumped, chasin' something naturally, and I just let that water run past my shoulders under my neck and under my feet
And down, down stream

Every good and bad thing that ever happend to me floating down, down stream”

Then, the trippy feeling of the poem grows even more intense, as Bryan suddenly awakes from his ethereal reverie to find that the fire he started has grown out of control.

The vignette concludes in a cyclical but tongue-in-cheek way, as Bryan finds the cleansing, purifying water of his dream replaced by dirty New York hydrant water, as the fire brigade attempt to put out the flames that are threatening to engulf him. You can't help but feel the fire represents the anger and turmoil Bryan has been attempting to quell over the past few months, with the water perhaps symbolising the comparatively patient, tranquil outlook he is attempting to cultivate.

“I took a big gulp and I wondered if all that water led to more streams and those led to some big ocean somewhere

Prayed all that suffering and all those belly laughs led to some big ocean somewhere

As soon as I took that big gulp, my eyes opened to a fire in that livin' room and the fire department came and hydrant filthy New York water was goin' up my back, down my front and down, down stream

And so are we”

“Bought a house from a man in New York
This house had four small apartments in it when he got it in '78
Said he had seen children grow old and elderly people die in each little apartment
Said he didn't change the wooden floors for sixteen years 'cause he knew where each scuff came from
We talked for a bit and he took me around the corner and told me everything had gone down, down stream from him
Like that cold water of his life had gone up his back, down his front, and around his legs
And before he could drink any of it, it'd already passed him by
I went home after drinkin' with him a bit, made a pallet and a fire on the floor and closed my eyes right there in the middle of one of the coldest nights Manhattan had seen all winter
I imagined my dog Jack and me back home cuttin' through some Oklahoman landscape with greens, moisture, and heat and finding some screen right there in the clearin'
He jumped, chasin' something naturally, and I just let that water run past my shoulders under my neck and under my feet
And down, down stream
Every good and bad thing that ever happend to me floating down, down stream
They're just floatin', the Tulsa bars and all the throw-up in 'em, the ducks we killed, the fights we had
The New York 3ams, the piano through my neighbor's wall and the Italian restaurant voices mashin' together through the opposite one
My mother's couch that I sang her songs on
The African desert heat, runnin' from the police, and my father's swollen pride
They're just floatin' by, every woman I have ever loved and every man I have ever called a brother
The New Year's fireworks and the July Fourth's too, every failure and every ugly, little victory
Screamin' off the Grand Canyon and hearin' one of my best friends has gotten into a wreck under some cold, dark western sky
My sister laughin', the streets of London, and my band playin' sweet notes in front of a hundred thousand people
I took a big gulp and I wondered if all that water led to more streams and those led to some big ocean somewhere
Prayed all that suffering and all those belly laughs led to some big ocean somewhere
As soon as I took that big gulp, my eyes opened to a fire in that livin' room and the fire department came and hydrant filthy New York water was goin' up my back, down my front and down, down stream
And so are we”

--

For more on Zach Bryan, see below:

Zach Bryan

Artist