In my little town is a big old bridge
Its’ aesthetic beauty a consequence of engineering
The height is needed to support parabolically stressed cables
Feel the hum when you touch one  

If you were an artist in the 1930’s in Leningrad
You painted strong workingmen swinging large hammers
If you live here
You paint the bridge  

You might take pictures
Or use charcoal smudges
But if you claim to be an artist in my little town
You must paint the bridge  

Self-inflicted despotic tyranny
You must paint the bridge