Waterloo Bridge has always been a lure,

To jump from, when you can’t take any more,

Could it be because of the stone seats,

That make it easy to jump as a lonely heart beats,

People walk over from nights out of fun,

They don’t understand how desperation begun,

Lovers hold hands and talk, lovers walk,

The jumper waits on till the fade of the talk,

The jumper stands on the stone seat with wind in his hair,

Waiting for the right moment, or a new wave of despare,

Below he sees the end of his woes,

The Thames, the mighty river that flows.