The city light reflection captivates as I stand there
Now serving as a backdrop to this macabre
Lights dancing on the depths, orange on black water
Industrial reflections on the place where you went under.
From where I stand by the dam, past the electric plant and bridge
I listen to the din of crickets and nightbirds at the lake.
Strange to be here, a tiny, unassuming lake
People drive by without even knowing it is there
But those who learn the secrets held between the dam and bridge
We know the story of the little lake's macabre.
Standing on the bank, staring up at the dam from under
We can tell you stories from its water.
Once, a morning after watching the sun set on its water
You called to tell me of a death at the lake
On the dam we walked on, a man's will went under
He hung himself from the steel beams we leaned on there.
You told me this on the telephone, and I sat still in my macabre
Wishing he had just used the beams of the bridge.
But that place holds its own stories, that ste