In this city with no footpath theres a building with no people There is crime and gun decisions Theres a street of heat and hawkers, theres a house of hope drifters Theres a gang that shoots then listens Theres a place that knows no poverty, a town without pollution Theres a soul with good intentions There are canyons full of movie stars, churches made of metal There are mountains made of muscle We have leaders who are anxious, we have captains not courageous Captains tumbling into madness But theres a man who makes no enemies, a body never breathless No ambition ever hopeless Up on bedlam bridge somebody is waiting Up on bedlam bridge Im shot to heaven Oh, up on bedalm bridge, waiting In these locked and shackled neighbourhoods, bridge and tunnel diplomats See the golden ghettos creeper Crazy flags from history, songs for the White House gangsters Guns for hellgate railway sleepers But theres a man who makes no enemies, a body never breathless No ambition ever hopeless So how stands the city on this winters night? The city on the hill or so they said The snow is falling down around the armoury The citys closing in around my head Up on bedlam bridge... Drive, wont you drive the engines harder, drive Drive, wont you turn the engines over, drive
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 15:48:09 +0000
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