I was traveling on the West Gate bridge Above the site where 35 men perished When I heard a voice that struck me clear And kept on whispering into my ears When ghosts tell you you're hollow in sound When they tell you one's the loneliest crowd When you feel like you can walk on clouds Then you know that it's your final, final, final bow And if I fall down right beside you Sorry I remind you Of all the things that trouble you, trial you and puzzle you Both of us can make it through None of thisbwill worry us again There's a missing piece up in the sky On the ground we look and wonder why When the wind blows hard enough to hear Still haunted by the whispering in my ears