http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdLGkFmIflU
C'mon la, la, la, la, la, La, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la,
Well, every spring, when the weather gets warm,
They come, pourin' into town, straight off of them farms,
Driving, 455s running, hard and strong,
They'd scratch, built in them tool sheds, all winter long,
'Neath the, 'neath the trestles, drinkin' the beer and the wine,
Now, some King's ransom, just to pass the time,
With the brothers, under the bridges.
Me and Tommy was, just fourteen, didn't have our licenses yet,
Our walls were covered with the, pictures of cars we'd get,
We'd listen and wait, for that highway to rumble and quake,
As they drove in through town when the weekend'd break,
Bringin' girls with that distant, look in their eyes,
Now together, 'neath the trestles, they'd be laughing in the night,
With the brothers under the bridges.
Well me and my brother'd hitched a ride in Joey's pickup to the edge of town,
And we watched from the tall grass as the challenges were made and the duels went down.
We'd hitchhike back home, sneak in, get in bed before our mom'd come,
And we'd lay there in the night, talkin' about how we might, someday be one,
Yeah, someday run, with the brothers under the bridges.
A 1 2 3 4
Well now I hear a cry in the distance and the sound of marching feet, come and gone,
Well I'm stittin' down here, by this highway figuring, figuring just where I belong,
Tonight from up here on Signal Hill,
I watch a young man in a red shirt walking through a night so still,
Put his jacket 'round his girl as the autumn wind send a chill,
Through the brothers under the bridges,
