the furrowed bed of sand worries again
|
as it had before, waves left the land.
|
for the falling leaves the child weepeing alone,
|
he's letting go of the anchor and all the lines...
|
waiting for the fingers of the grey wave
|
of 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 wake can take me out to sea.
|
and this wake can take me out to sea.
|
I can see her, she is calling me
|
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 (Stringth In Numbers)
|
| Dispatch |
