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lirik lagu mr. bridges – michael mcguire

mr. bridges
© electric babylon music author: m.m.

the first time i met mr. bridges he looked like a walking skeleton, eyes
set deep; sunken cheeks; i bet he didn’t weigh ninety pounds, he was
an old world character; talked tough but you knew he was really tender,
i was mr. bridges route man for about three years; every friday i’d
bring in his clean uniforms, it was what we call a house stop; just one
man on the invoice and mr. bridges never kept a copy, i’d walk into the
dirty garage that had piles of relics from engines now at rest, he’d
always say something like do you have all my uniforms; you shorted
me last week you little c-cksucker, it always smelt like dog p-ss and in
the winter it was dark and warm, and those big dogs he had chained up
in there were mean as h-ll and wouldn’t hardly let you get near him, he
loved those dogs and they loved him they would roll around at his feet
like puppies, and he would smile so childlike so oblivious and pet them
and tell them what good boys they were, it was a c.o.d. account and
mr. bridges would always pay me a little over and tell me to keep the
change, he would always say; smiling widely i’m the only one that does
that ain’t i , i would always smile and say yes mr. bridges you are;
you’re the only one left who appreciates a good route man, he would
often tell me he had started the service back in nineteen and fifty two,
back when joe barnes started the company and was going door to door
himself selling shop rags, did you know joe barnes he would ask and
i’d say no mr. bridges that was before my time, the guys name was
actually barr but i never corrected him, but now for some strange
reason that i can’t really put my finger on i wish i would have, there
was one story he told me a few times about his first route man back
years ago when even he was a young man, his name was jerry bell and
he was a great guy mr. bridges said, they even had a beer or two on
christmas when he’d make his stop, but you can’t do that these days
and i would agree and say no they would fire my -ss in a second, he
said jerry had some kind of problems with his marriage; he didn’t know
the details, but one weekend jerry drove down into alabama late at
night and they found he had parked and shot himself in his car, he
always said at the end of the story that he thought about that a lot and
that it always hurt his heart, toward the end when i would come in he
would say oh son i’m in a h-ll of a shape, he always either called me
c-cksucker or son i’m not sure if he even knew my name, he would say
i’m bleeding inside and they can’t stop it, i didn’t know what to say
when he would tell me this; it just seems embarr-ssing when someone
tells you there dying, but i kept coming every friday till one day he just
wasn’t there.
his name was hershel; hershel bridges but i always called him mr.
bridges, i still drive down wedgwood by that old garage behind his
house every friday, and that old brown truck he used to drive is still
parked out in front of it, i can still see him sliding slowly into the front
seat to go pick up some parts, i can still hear that pained and puzzled
voice saying oh son i’m in a h-ll of a shape, i still think of that story he
told me about that other route driver and how that hurt his heart, and
you know i believe it really did.

nov00

- michael mcguire

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