Текст песни Pale Roses - The Rutted Road

THE RUTTED ROAD

This is a road so many have travelled
Since it started by Basingstoke Canal.
You can hear them or their ghosts,
Their everlasting sad chorale.

You can follow in their footsteps,
Pagan pilgrim, proud yet humble.
Far behind their chariots of gold,
You go barefoot but you don’t stumble.

There is blood on the thorns of a pale rose,
This road is rutted but it’s the one I chose.

If your dreams are full of clichés,
The Rhine gold, the Round Table,
You should journey on with me,
We’d revive the Age of Fable.

If you still shed a tear, as I often do,
On Guinevere, on Lady of Shalott
You won't listen to those who scorn the past,
You won't listen, I will not.

There is blood on the thorns of a pale rose,
This road is rutted but it’s the one I chose.