The Bridge

After he throws his last cigarette off the bridge
And she smiles because she should
They go down to the dark water in the dark and she stays on the rocks
While he talks and talks
But she doesn't listen, and she isn't scared

They don’t hold hands because she’s carrying too much already
They step on glass, but they’ve got their shoes on
What are they saved by? Maybe it’s luck
She asks him if they’re free or stuck
And he looks at her, with his mouth open

She shakes her head, it’s hard to turn over stones that aren’t real
So we just look at all the pretty things that we can hold
We wash our hands for hours in that muddy, little stream
But we can’t arrange our words right
And we're never, never clean

So, we swallow our messes and wear summer dresses
It’s easier to turn with the world
She stops by the stream, with her feet in the rocks
She knows that they're are chained by locks and socks
And he just talks and talks and talks
When they say goodbye, she'll also say she loves him