Tuesday, 17 July 2007

Roads to Moscow -Al Stewart

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

Softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mist in the fields on our hands and our knees

All that I ever
Was able to see
The fire in the air, glowing red
Silhouetting the dust on the breeze

All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolensk and Viasma soon fell
By autumn we stood with 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 it the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Glueing the tracks of their tanks to the ground, while the skies filled with snow

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
You'll never know, you'll never know, which way to turn, which way to look you'll never see us
As we're stealing through the blackness of the night you'll never know, you'll 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
It's been almost four years that I've carried your gun
At home, it will almost be spring
The flames of the Tigers 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 can't slow us down

All that I ever
Was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening
Now it's the end of a dream

I'm coming home, I'm 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 we were caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
They only held me for a day, a lucky break I say
They turn and listen closer
I'll never know, I'll never know, why I was taken from the line and all the others
to board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia

And it's cold and damp in the transit camp and the air is still and sullen
and the pale sun of october whispers the snows will soon be coming
And I wonder when, I'll be home again and the morning answers "Never".
The evening sighs and the steely, Russian skies go on,

Amelia:- it was just a false alarm.

Not the hexagram of the heavens, nor the strings of my guitar...more like a fraction of the pentagram of the heavens perhaps, But it's a sign. -I knew it was 'a sign'......
Yep. A sign that airliners will be important in my life soon.....................