Musta drove about a thousand miles
and seen a thousand turnings
And as I came up on my goal
the question was still burning
over the crest of the hill
a thousand miles from the mainland
I saw its shining shining spans
and clenched the key in my hand
I’d sworn while I was mired in muck
no matter what I’d go there
and now it stretches out before me
behold the bridge to nowhere
and feeling mighty in my veins
The die and how I tossed it
I climbed behind the wheel again
and with a clear mind crossed it
what
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