I have crossed a thousand bridges,
in my search for something real.
There were great suspension bridges
made like spiderwebs of steel.

There were tiny wooden trestles
and there were bridges made of stone.
I have always been a stranger
and I've always been alone.

There's a bridge to tomorrow.
There's a bridge from the past.
There's a bridge made of sorrow,
that I pray will not last.

There's a bridge made of colors
in the sky high above.
And I think that there must be
bridges made out of love.

I can see him in the distance,
on the river's other shore.
And his hands reach out in longing
as my own has done before,

And I call across to tell him
where I believe the bridge must lie.
And I'll find it.
Yes, I'll find it.
If I search until I die.

There's a bridge to tomorrow.
There's a bridge from the past.
There's a bridge made of sorrow,
that I pray will not last.

There's a bridge made of colors
in the sky high above.
And I am certain that somewhere
there's a bridge made out of love.