The face of the dog soot into the clouds
written into the sky gravely, graffity hound
All travelers turned to drive back to their homes
lusting bridges already crossed as they'd roamed
Bridges that seperate world's and values
that part realities and hover over deluge
The dog head etched into the sky
warning any wanderer that disaster is nigh
Superstition may be a joke a loose mouth's give
It all depends which side of the bridge you live
which side of the vowel you stress when a loose mouth sends
Point shout laughter and continue toward the horizon then
Keep rolling toward final destination's wind tide
that broken bridge that has idle repair men either side
talking about the good old days and hiding from the horizon
And there is no river here sir just a seperation
Without the bridge it's just two dogs barking into a mirror
one trying to convince the other it's real out of horror
Not far down from where the realities shift
These dogs trespass at midday's a.m and p.m steep cliff
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