| Song | Bridges, Squares |
| Artist | Ted Leo and the Pharmacists |
| Album | Hearts of Oak |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Leo | |
| As I walked on to Kendall square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Charles was black, the sky was blue | |
| The view was old, the bridge was new | |
| And past the flow's constricted mouth | |
| Commercial lines flowed mostly south | |
| Or east across a boundless sea | |
| Where rising soon, the star would be | |
| The tides are moved by sun and moon | |
| The spring will last from March to June | |
| The red line train will pass behind | |
| As long as bridge joins stream and sky | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the works of man | |
| I wondered how this walk began | |
| 'Til red line train came 'round again | |
| But it's not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I can take, so I could give | |
| If I could shop where I could live | |
| As I can read, so I'd write books | |
| If I could eat where I could cook | |
| Where talkers have a place to meet | |
| Where walkers walk along the street | |
| And subways travel paths well hid | |
| And ferries take you off the grid | |
| But it's not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of | |
| Predictable waves of historicity | |
| Or nostalgia for gaslit times I'll never ever see | |
| Futurians manifest | |
| Internationalists | |
| Connected are the promenades and waterways | |
| The living waves of harbor nights and city days | |
| And where is the builder, was there something missed? | |
| Hidden in the plans to the bridge that started this | |
| But it's not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I walked on to Founders' Square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Passaic was gray, the sky was blue | |
| The bridge was old, the view was new | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the builders' plan | |
| I wondered how this walk would end | |
| 'Til path train came around again | |
| But it's not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history |
| zuo qu : Leo | |
| As I walked on to Kendall square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Charles was black, the sky was blue | |
| The view was old, the bridge was new | |
| And past the flow' s constricted mouth | |
| Commercial lines flowed mostly south | |
| Or east across a boundless sea | |
| Where rising soon, the star would be | |
| The tides are moved by sun and moon | |
| The spring will last from March to June | |
| The red line train will pass behind | |
| As long as bridge joins stream and sky | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the works of man | |
| I wondered how this walk began | |
| ' Til red line train came ' round again | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I can take, so I could give | |
| If I could shop where I could live | |
| As I can read, so I' d write books | |
| If I could eat where I could cook | |
| Where talkers have a place to meet | |
| Where walkers walk along the street | |
| And subways travel paths well hid | |
| And ferries take you off the grid | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of | |
| Predictable waves of historicity | |
| Or nostalgia for gaslit times I' ll never ever see | |
| Futurians manifest | |
| Internationalists | |
| Connected are the promenades and waterways | |
| The living waves of harbor nights and city days | |
| And where is the builder, was there something missed? | |
| Hidden in the plans to the bridge that started this | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I walked on to Founders' Square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Passaic was gray, the sky was blue | |
| The bridge was old, the view was new | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the builders' plan | |
| I wondered how this walk would end | |
| ' Til path train came around again | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history |
| zuò qǔ : Leo | |
| As I walked on to Kendall square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Charles was black, the sky was blue | |
| The view was old, the bridge was new | |
| And past the flow' s constricted mouth | |
| Commercial lines flowed mostly south | |
| Or east across a boundless sea | |
| Where rising soon, the star would be | |
| The tides are moved by sun and moon | |
| The spring will last from March to June | |
| The red line train will pass behind | |
| As long as bridge joins stream and sky | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the works of man | |
| I wondered how this walk began | |
| ' Til red line train came ' round again | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I can take, so I could give | |
| If I could shop where I could live | |
| As I can read, so I' d write books | |
| If I could eat where I could cook | |
| Where talkers have a place to meet | |
| Where walkers walk along the street | |
| And subways travel paths well hid | |
| And ferries take you off the grid | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of | |
| Predictable waves of historicity | |
| Or nostalgia for gaslit times I' ll never ever see | |
| Futurians manifest | |
| Internationalists | |
| Connected are the promenades and waterways | |
| The living waves of harbor nights and city days | |
| And where is the builder, was there something missed? | |
| Hidden in the plans to the bridge that started this | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history | |
| As I walked on to Founders' Square | |
| And crossed the river basin there | |
| The Passaic was gray, the sky was blue | |
| The bridge was old, the view was new | |
| And from that point where I did stand | |
| I wondered at the builders' plan | |
| I wondered how this walk would end | |
| ' Til path train came around again | |
| But it' s not the time to ossify | |
| Not the end of wondering why | |
| Not in your faith or your apostasy | |
| Not the end of history |