The furrowed bed of sand worries again
|
As it had before, waves left the land
|
For the falling tide leaves the child weeping alone,
|
He's letting go of the anchor and all the lines...
|
waiting for the fingers of the grey wave
|
or his mother's hand to roll over him
|
with endless water...10,000 bridges
|
Show me father.
|
Now I'm older, now much older
|
And this wave can take me out to sea
|
I feel the pull beneath my feet
|
But I can see her, she is calling
|
I can feel her there...I can feel her there
|
waiting for the fingers of the grey wave
|
or his mother's hand to roll over him
|
with endless water...10,000 bridges
|
Show me father.
|
|
-----------------
|
Bridges
|
| Dispatch |
