In this city with no footpath there's a building with no people There is crime and gun decisions There's a street of heat and hawkers, there's a house of hope drifters There's a gang that shoots then listens There's a place that knows no poverty, a town without pollution There's a soul with good intentions There are canyons full of movie stars, churches made of metal There are mountains made of muscle We have leaders who are anxious, we have captains not courageous Captains tumbling into madness But there's a main who makes no enemies, a body never breathless No ambition ever hopeless
Up on bedlam bridge somebody is waiting Up on bedlam bridge I'm shot to heaven Oh, up on bedalm bridge, waiting
In these locked and shackled neighbourhoods, bridge and tunnel diplomats See the golden ghetto's creeper Crazy flags from history, songs for the White House gangsters Guns for hellgate railway sleepers But there's a main who makes no enemies, a body never breathless No ambition ever hopeless So how stands the city on this winters night? The city on the hill or so they said The snow is falling down around the armoury The city's closing in around my head
Up on bedlam bridge...
Drive, won't you drive the engines harder, drive Drive, won't you turn the engines over, drive
(Hirst)
Compositores: Peter Roberts Garrett (Peter Garrett), James Paul Moginie (James Moginie), Martin Magnus Rotsey (Martin Rotsey), Wayne Stevens, Robert George Hirst (Ghostwriter) ECAD: Obra #4030251 Fonograma #1787342