In front of us, made up of bridges stolen from
the Dutch East Indies, lies the bridge whose every
nail is still struck home in nights of old men.
With you wedged next to me
I hear them lie there listening to the hammering
on sleep. Orders ring out across the water.
In echoes the frail voice of grandpa, and the angry one
of his son who struck you with it till you bled
the Dutch East Indies, lies the bridge whose every
nail is still struck home in nights of old men.
With you wedged next to me
I hear them lie there listening to the hammering
on sleep. Orders ring out across the water.
In echoes the frail voice of grandpa, and the angry one
of his son who struck you with it till you bled