THE BRIDGE Before the bridge a devil stood His hollow eyes beneath his hood With my microphone I cut the smoke I killed him there with one stroke Silver fell from open palms I died before the dawn Natchez to Memphis and along the ridge Women still bring flowers to that bridge Long black train, go if you must Return to cinders, dust to dust Long black train, go if you must Return to cinders, dust to dustback to the compilations page
Copyright (c) Thomas Anderson, Angry Young Grad Student Music