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The Bridge

They say there’s a bridge out there, out there in the mist,
Some will deny it’s there, others will tell you it don’t even exist.
It’s not made of iron or steel nor stone, yet it spans the rising waters,
We are but bags of blood and bone, yet we carry the weight of our sons and our daughters.
And now the fields are all but drowned, and we climb up to the ridge,
Some will seek the higher ground,
Some of us the bridge.

If all is behind us now, beneath that swollen river,
The bridge we will find somehow, only then will we be delivered.
Though some will claim to be inclined, it’s a figment or a ghost,
But the bridge is deep inside the mind, invisible to most.
And now the city’s all but drowned, and here up on the ridge,
Some will seek the higher ground,
Some of us the bridge.

Open the gates that we may follow,
Open the bridge to all of us,
Open the floodgates to the river,
Open the bridge that we may cross.

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The Bells of St. Thomas

I wake up in Antwerp in some rich woman’s bed,
There’s a man with a hammer inside of my head.
She says, ‘I couldn’t wake you, I thought you were dead,
But you talked in your sleep, I don’t know what you said.’

I look in the mirror, my eyes bleeding red,
There’s a taste in my mouth of stale brandy and lead,
Don’t know how I got here, or if I was led,
But I know it’s a Sunday, for the bells in my head,
As they call to the faithful, the quick and the dead,
The last days of judgement upon us,
And the bells on the roof of St. Thomas…are calling.

She says, ‘Are you hungry? You look underfed.’
‘No, I’d better be going, I’ll have coffee instead.’
‘Let me give you some money.’ I say, ‘There’s no need,
You don’t owe me nothing, it’s what we agreed.’

But the room’s like a palace in a book I once read,
And the words that I’m thinking would be better unsaid.
I search for my clothes, then she asks if I’ll stay,
‘There’s a room for you here, my husband’s away.’

The bells of St. Thomas are aching with doubt,
They’re cracked and they’re broken, like the earth in a drought,
I’ve searched for their meaning, I just never found out,
Whatever they’re expecting from us,
Or why the bells on the roof of St. Thomas…are crying.

I walk to the church though it’s empty by now,
The roof like an overturned ship, and a prow
For a pulpit, and there it is up on the wall,
St. Thomas inspecting the wounds for us all.

It’s a painting by Rubens, painted from life,
And it’s flanked by a rich man and his elegant wife,
The wounds we all share, and yet still need the proof,
You can feign your indifference, pretend you’re aloof,
But the wounds we’re denying are there all the same,
And the bells of St. Thomas start ringing again.

The saint I was named for, the sceptical brother,
The rich man’s wife in the arms of another,
And the exit wounds of a love that’s gone wrong,
She said she was leaving but she’d already gone,
And the last days of judgement are finally upon on us,
And the bells on the roof of St. Thomas…are calling.

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Captain Bateman

Lord Bateman was a noble lord,
A noble lord of high degree,
Imprisoned in some foreign country,
To spend his life in captivity.

He is a captain in the King’s own Navy,
He’d spent his life upon the cold grey sea,
What would he give now for a plate of meat and gravy,
Or for an angel to appear and set him free.

Full seven years he lives on bread and dirty water,
A single candle in his prison room for light,
Into the cell will walk the pretty jailer’s daughter,
The cloak she’s wearing is as black as any night.

She is a creature of captivating beauty,
As this bold captain’s hungry eyes would ever see,
She looks upon him with the eye of love’s desire,
And so he begs her, ‘Lady, will ye set me free?’

‘What can you offer if you gain your freedom?
I’ll lose my heart if I should ever set you free.
I have the keys if you’ll deliver me a promise,
Should I release you then you’ll vow to marry me.’

‘You are a creature of captivating beauty,
We could run and make a life beyond the sea,’
He takes her hand in his and makes a solemn promise,
‘Unchain me now and I will vow to marry thee.’

Beneath the city walls and down into the harbour,
She’ll throw his chains into the wine dark sea,
They’ll find a ship but now his hand is forced to stay her,
‘In truth I never could have married thee.’

She was a creature of captivating beauty,
He still has many miles of ocean to traverse,
His broken promises will move the gods to anger,
All broken promises will render matters worse.

She sees the black storm clouds on the horizon,
His solemn promises lie broken,
And whispered on the wind as if it’s spoken,
He’ll hear a maiden’s curse.

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The Hills on the Border

Oh, the hills on the border,
‘Bout this time of the year,
When the mists seem to gather,
In the valley of your fears.

And you walk through that valley,
As day turns to night,
Is there something in the shadows,
Or the failing of the light?

I was walking home last evening,
When perhaps I should have ran,
From a darkening of shadows,
In the shape of a man.

It said, ‘Talk to me stranger,
Or may I call you brother?
Let us make our way together,
From this place to another.

‘I don’t carry any weapon,
I don’t carry any staff,
But I’ll carry half your burden,
‘Til your journey’s cut in half.

‘Let me share of your burden,
The lifetime you will carve,
And the gravestone that you carry
Will be a burden halved.’

He sat down by the roadside,
As the mists they gathered ‘round,
Takes some cards from his pocket,
That he spreads upon the ground.

He said, ‘This card is a woman,
You will love but not possess,
And this card’s a man you’ll murder,
But you’ll never confess.

‘I don’t carry any weapon,
I don’t carry any staff,
But I’ll carry half your burden,
‘Til your journey’s cut in half.

‘Let me share of your burden,
This lifetime you will carve,
And the gravestone that ye carry,
Will be a burden halved.’

I said, ‘Why should I trust ye?
Or the cards that you have thrown?
I don’t know you from the Devil,
And this burden is my own.’

He said, ‘I have the gift of secrets,
From our Father, little brother,
Let us make our way together,
From this world to another.’

Oh, the hills on the border,
‘Bout this time of the year,
When the mists seem to gather,
In the valley of your fears.

And you walk through that valley,
With your coat around your ears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears.

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For Her Love

What would a man not do?
What would a man not say?
What would a man not agree to?
What would he not betray?

Where would a man fear to trespass?
Where would a man not stray?
What crime would a man not admit to?
What price would a man not pay?

(For her love…)
He’s got no money but his head’s up in the stars,
(For her love…)
He’ll spray her name across a streetcar,
(For her love…)
If he can’t read between the lines up there on Mars,
(For her love…)
He’ll find some meaning in a street light.

What would a man not consent to?
What would a man not face?
What would a man not agree to?
What lies would a man not embrace?

(For her love…)
He’ll find a job, he’ll work his fingers to the bone,
(For her love…)
She’s safely sleeping in the moonlight,
(For her love…)
He’ll save his money, buy a place to call their own,
(For her love…)
And he will be the one she loves.

By the stretch of my fingers,
(For her love…)
By the strength in my hands,
(For her love…)
By the blood that flows in my veins,
(For her love…)
By the pulse of my beating heart,
(For her love…)
By the sun up in Heaven, by the moon and the stars,
(For her love…)
By the circling planets and the lines on the surface, the surface of Mars.

What would a man not do?
What would a man not say?
For her love?

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Harmony Road

The street where we live is commonly known as being the wrong side of town,
They look down their noses at you, like they’re entitled to keep you down,
Our street has its social issues and violent crime by the bucket load,
They laughed when they named it Harmony Road.

They say where you’re born will have an effect on how you turn out in life,
So how can you make a living when all you have is a pocket knife?
You don’t have the choice to run from another violent episode,
Welcome to life here on Harmony Road.

One day we’ll make a break,
Get out of here, make no mistake,
We’ll steal a car, find a happy song on the radio,
And never come back to Harmony Road.

You walk down the hill and past the old factory shuttered for 20 years,
There used to be work but you wonder how you’ll ever get out of here,
If I had a song in me I would pay off all of the debts I owed,
I’m all out of tune on Harmony Road.

I’ll find us some money and I will take you with me, I promise you,
I’ll buy you some fancy clothes and we’ll do all the things we wanted to,
And no one will know that we’re any different we’re just à la mode,
The king and the queen of Harmony Road.

One day we’ll make a break from here,
We’ll make it big and have no fear,
Won’t carry the social stigma of being judged by our postal code,
And we will be done with Harmony Road.

But then in our dreams are we to be haunted by what we left behind?
That road has a way of pulling you back if ever you give it mind.
No matter the riches and all the palaces where we may have strode,
We’ll always belong to Harmony Road.
We’ll always belong to Harmony Road.

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Loving You

You say that I don’t listen,
That I don’t give you no respect,
You took your love to some other place,
Now, what did you expect?

We made vows inside the church,
To forgive each other’s sins,
But there are things I have to endure,
Like the smell of another man’s skin.

If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.
If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.

You say you wanted children,
And you would grow into a mother,
But in my mind’s eye I always see you,
In the arms of another.

I am given to jealousy,
I’ve been given to violence,
But I could never raise a hand in my defence,
So I suffer here in silence.

If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.
If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.

I pray the waters of forgiveness,
Will rain down on you and me,
Just like newborn babies,
In the cradle of a tree.

And we will walk in righteousness,
We will walk in rain and thunder,
And what God has joined together here,
Let no man put asunder.

If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.
If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.
If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.
If that’s not loving you,
I don’t know what is.
If that’s not loving you,
Then tell me what it is.

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The Book of Numbers

Bring me a glass of water,
To wash the dirt from my throat,
I’ve been wandering my whole life out there,
Would you help me out of my coat?

This water’s as clear as crystal,
We should thank the Lord for that,
Now, sit you down and hear my story,
And find somewhere for my hat.

The barkeep takes the stranger’s hat,
And finds a vacant hook,
And turns back towards the traveller,
His right hand on an old black book.

The holy Book of Numbers,
I take it’s something that you’ve read?
The long search in the wilderness,
For a place to lay my head.

So many parables in the scriptures,
But this one I’m doomed to tell,
For I stormed the gates of Heaven,
To find myself in Hell.

This is my lonely mission,
To wake the world up to its fate,
To dismantle my own invention,
For the hour is getting late.

This holy Book of Numbers,
As I walk through the shadow of death,
Tell me are you listening, boy,
Or am I just wasting my breath?

There are fools in the courts of power,
While I’ve walked through this vale of bitter tears,
At the mercy of recording angels,
For three score and twenty five years.

The barkeep gets up from the table,
To fill up another glass,
When he turns around to find an empty chair,
All that’s left…is the name in his hat.

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If It’s Love

Jumped out of bed this morning,
With a smile upon my face,
It’s still there while I shave my chin,
But the reason’s hard for me to trace.

I cook myself some breakfast,
Have some coffee while I muse,
Where could this smile have come from?
It’s a muscle that I rarely use.

Call the doctor with my symptoms,
Should I spend all day in bed?
Can you explain what’s ailing me?
And this is what my doctor said…

If it’s love, it has no season,
If it’s love, there is no cure,
If it’s love, it won’t see reason,
And of this you can be sure.

If it’s love, you must surrender,
If it’s love that’s turned you ‘round,
If it’s love, the odds are slender,
If it’s love, you’re sunk without a trace,
One case can bring you down.

You smile and your heart skips a beat,
You hear a church bell chiming,
A sound that’s ringing in your ears,
Will set your heartbeat climbing.

And my doctor’s diagnosis?
His opinion, and I quote,
‘I’ll write you a prescription,’
And this is what my doctor wrote…

If it’s love, it has no season,
If it’s love, there is no cure,
If it’s love, it won’t see reason,
And of this you can be sure.

If it’s love, you must surrender,
If it’s love then you must yield,
If it’s love, the odds are slender,
If it’s love, the trap’s already laid and I’m afraid
Your fate is all but sealed.

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Bonus Material

Congratulations on unlocking ‘The Bridge’ bonus material! Explore the album’s ‘Deluxe Edition’ tracks and enjoy a special performance of the album’s title track below.