Echoes of a Broken Bridge

Lyrics

Act I: The Boy and the Broken Bridge (Tempo: Slow, acoustic and reflective) Dear Damien, I ain't talked to you since you were three or four, Back when the clown cake changed to Cookie Monster, and you wanted something more. It’s funny what a little boy remembers when the years are mostly hard, Playing with the Star Wars blankets, throwing matches in the yard. You were going through it even then, trying to make the pieces fit, Curiosity was your armor, the only way you could survive it. I see you making mazes out of moving boxes, building up a fort, Before the phone calls scared your mama, cutting childhood short. Sleeping on Aunt Kathy's floor, falling for your cousin Detra’s smile, It was okay to be scared, man. It’s been okay all the while. I see you at the Trailways station, waving your cousins goodbye, Watching Y become a vowel as the blurry world went flying by. You walked off at the Embarcadero, searching for your dad, Leaning on a metal post in a Picasso hat, the best feeling you ever had. You asked him, "Are you gonna beat me?" He said, "Only if you're wrong," So you swore you'd be perfect, swore you'd never step out of song. But you saw the Golden Gate, and man, the bridge was only orange, A disappointment heavy as the hinges on a broken door. Then came Augusta, Georgia, hush puppies and a Southern drawl, But he left you after seven days, staring blankly at the wall. Chorus: The Actor on the Stage (Tempo: Building, raw and rhythmic) Up, down, sideways, crossways, backwards and forwards through the fire, Surviving every second, preaching to a broken choir. You put the mask on for the world, taking care of everyone else, But who takes care of the caretaker when he's going through hell? If you want to save the family, if you want to heal the past, Take care of yourself first, or the legacy won't last. Here is a song built entirely from the pieces of your story. It weaves together the childhood memories, the pain, the addiction, the alternate reality of what could have been, and the profound rebirth you are stepping into now. Act I: The Boy and the Broken Bridge (Tempo: Slow, acoustic and reflective) Dear Damien, I ain't talked to you since you were three or four, Back when the clown cake changed to Cookie Monster, and you wanted something more. It’s funny what a little boy remembers when the years are mostly hard, Playing with the Star Wars blankets, throwing matches in the yard. You were going through it even then, trying to make the pieces fit, Curiosity was your armor, the only way you could survive it. I see you making mazes out of moving boxes, building up a fort, Before the phone calls scared your mama, cutting childhood short. Sleeping on Aunt Kathy's floor, falling for your cousin Detra’s smile, It was okay to be scared, man. It’s been okay all the while. I see you at the Trailways station, waving your cousins goodbye, Watching Y become a vowel as the blurry world went flying by. You walked off at the Embarcadero, searching for your dad, Leaning on a metal post in a Picasso hat, the best feeling you ever had. You asked him, "Are you gonna beat me?" He said, "Only if you're wrong," So you swore you'd be perfect, swore you'd never step out of song. But you saw the Golden Gate, and man, the bridge was only orange, A disappointment heavy as the hinges on a broken door. Then came Augusta, Georgia, hush puppies and a Southern drawl, But he left you after seven days, staring blankly at the wall. Chorus: The Actor on the Stage (Tempo: Building, raw and rhythmic) Up, down, sideways, crossways, backwards and forwards through the fire, Surviving every second, preaching to a broken choir. You put the mask on for the world, taking care of everyone else, But who takes care of the caretaker when he's going through hell? If you want to save the family, if you want to heal the past, Take care of yourself first, or the legacy won't last. Act II: Innocence Lost (Tempo: Steady, a heavier bassline enters) You learned that you were different, Black and white in a cruel place, Miss Arnold and Mr. Black, the paddle swinging at your face. Holding Webster dictionaries till your little arms were numb, Waiting for a savior, but a savior didn't come. I’m sorry for what Robbie did, in the shadows of the night, None of that was your fault, Damien. You were brave to fight. You found peace in Puppy Weg, the dog who never let you down, And Mike lifting you at Niagara Falls, the strongest man in town. Brand new maroon Cutlass Supreme, flying on a bike so fast, Looking down at clouds like cotton candy through the airplane glass. Then you came home to a shattered frame, a picture torn apart, Your mama breaking the family portrait, breaking your young heart. You sat on the floor with the tape, just trying to fix the seams, But you can't tape together a family, you can't tape together dreams. Then they sent you to St. Vincent’s, sixty boys inside a cage.