every spring when the weather gets warm they come pourin into town straight off of them farms driving 455s running hard and strong they d scratch built in them tool sheds all winter long neath the trestles drinkin the beer and the wine now some came to run some just to pass the time with the brothers under the bridges me and tommy we was just fourteen didn t have our licenses yet our walls were covered with pictures of the cars we d get we d listen and wait for that highway to rumble and quake as they drove in through town when the weekend d break bringin girls with that distant look in their eyes now together neath the trestles they d be laughing in the night with the brothers under the bridges well me and my brother hitched a ride in joey s pickup to the edge of town and we watched from the tall grass as the challenges were made and the duels went down we d hitchhike back home sneak in get in bed before our mom d come and we d lay there in the night talkin about how we might someday be one yeah someday run with the brothers under the bridges well now i hear a cry in the distance and the sound of marching feet come and gone well i m sittin down here by this highway figuring figuring just where where i belong tonight from up here on signal hill i watch a young man in a red shirt walking through a night so still put his jacket round his girl as the autumn wind sends a chill with the brothers under the bridges