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| Dispatch Miscellaneous Bridges (Stringth In Numbers) 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 |
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