Roads To Moscow (Al Stewarts epic tribute to Alexander Solzhenitsyn who, as a soldier for Stalins Red Army was caught and held by the Germans briefly, so that he was thought to be poisoned by bourgeois capitalism and sent to the Gulag for reeducation) They crossed over the border the hour before dawn moving in lines through the day Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay Waiting for orders we held in the wood Word from the front never came By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away I softly move through the shadows, slip away through the trees Crossing their lines in the mist in the fields on our hands and our knees And all that I ever Was able to see The fire in the air, glowing red Silhouetting the smoke on the breeze All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine Smolensk and Viasma soon fell By Autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel Closer and closer to Moscow they come Riding the wind like a bell General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill Winter brought with the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground, while the skies filled with snow And all that I ever Was able to see The fire in the air, glowing red Silhouetting the snow on the breeze In the footsteps of Napoleon, the shadow figures stagger through the winter Falling back before the gates of Moscow, standing in the wings like an avenger And far away behind their lines, the partisans are stirring in the forest Coming unexpectedly upon their outpost, growing like a promise Youll never know, youll never know, which way to turn, which way to look youll never see us As we steal into the blackness of the night youll never know, youll never hear us And evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming The morning road leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming Two broken tigers on fire in the night Flicker their souls to the wind We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin Its been almost four years that Ive carried a gun At home, it will almost be spring The flames of the tiger are lighting the road to Berlin I quickly move through the ruins that bow to the ground The old men and children they send out to face us, they cant slow us down And all that I ever Was able to see The eyes of the city are opening Now its the end of a dream Im coming home, Im coming home , now you can taste it in the wind the war is over And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border And now they ask about the time that i was caught behind their time and taken prisoner They only held me for a day, a lucky break i say They turn and listen closer Ill never know, Ill never know, why I was taken from the line with all the others to board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia And its cold and damp in the transit camp and the air is still and sullen and the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming And I wonder when, Ill be home again and the morning answers never And the evening sighs and the steely, Russian skies go on, forever...
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 21:26:52 +0000
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