Thrown into a driving snowstorm My eyes fill with darkness I spoke against my country And paid the price Before me, foul Kolyma Hungry maw swallows thousands Feed her with the poor, the innocent To work the mines
Ride, ride, ride on the road of bones Die, die, die on the road of bones
Desolation does surround me Permafrost is my cold bed I'm a zombie of the Gulag Dying slowly and living dead
Forty degrees below the redline The purga blizzards howl I curl up in my tent To count my final days Who I was no longer matters I am nothing; I am no one Just a tooth on this grinding gear To break and be cast away
Ride, ride, ride on the road of bones Die, die, die on the road of bones
Dread Vorkuta, whore of torture Spreads her foul hands across the plain In her clutches, Russia's children Pray for death to end the pain
Discovered in this land of solitude A message scratched into a frozen stone: "We died here, our skin a frozen blue. Remember us, the forgotten and alone."
On a day when the sun rose darkly Body broken, spirit fled The wind, it blew so hard, My wounds scarcely bled. Now I join the countless millions Who in toil have died before me Their bones ground into dust To pave this road to hell
Ride, ride, ride on the road of bones Die, die, die on the road of bonesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
