in the gravel by the A road
where the tarmac fades away
there’s a bloom of wild flowers
with a dusty grey bouquet

and with every passing tyre
there’s a gentle nod of heads
as the flowers close their eyes
and whisper prayers for the dead

for the highway is a promise
of the better days to come
but it’s filled with weary pilgrims
whose own better days have gone

because every travelling stranger
has a tale to make you bleed
but the heart that goes on beating
knows the place where all roads lead

so you better keep on rolling
if you want to reach your goal
but be sure to look inside yourself
as the highway takes its toll