There is a big black bridge and it spans over hundreds of blocks So those below catch the trash that is thrown There’s a plague don’t you know going ‘round, a horrible pox Sick are the shades walking pale and afraid They sob, “Why, oh when will it stop?”
The bridge it is called Black Iron Road The red wind it blows
There is a pitch-black bridge a creaking leviathan over us Some come below with a bullet in their bones There’s a well in our town where we throw the cold ones down an abyss Sad are the days waking pale and afraid Crying, “Why, oh god! Make it stop!”
The bridge it is called the Black Iron Road The red wind it blows The bridge it is called the Black Iron Road The red wind it blows
Thunder is a train The sky is predatory The light of the day never comes down this way The sun will never burn away the murders of the night Clamor and fight all you like The scarlet riders still come down on the breeze Whatever those smoke and grease machines are hauling Is falling into us We need another fix real soon
The bridge it is called the Black Iron Road The red wind it blows
There are ghosts, travelers say Stay away from the place down belowTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
