Of Bridges and Benches

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Morgan Weidinger

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I got two hands of paper
When I reach for a prize they just collapse 
I have tried to 'maché them together
But it only buys me seconds til the next relapse

It’s the time of the year the night falls faster
And I’ve made a bed out of this park bench
I am soaked in the sunlight’s laughter
As it sets fire to the Brooklyn Bridge

	Dreamer, you have held 
    your own name at ransom 
    For visions that have kissed your brow
    But the only toll you owe
    Is the guts it takes to know yourself

I got a golden face, an 
Iron body and two feet of clay
So it goes that’s the sober truth of 
What it means to have what it takes

It’s the time of the night the water rises
And I’ve made a home in the New York bay
I am drenched in a cherry sky as
The horizon outbursts into flames

	Dreamer, you have held 
    your own name at ransom 
    For visions that have kissed your brow
    But the only toll you owe
    Is the guts it takes to know you’re


    Standing at the door, 
    counting knocks, noting clocks
    No one seems to hear your plea
    And the moon that’s left to rise
    Is the time it takes to realize
    You’ve got the key

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