The Road runs West from Rivendell. We journey home, our tales to tell. To them, the terror then so fell, It fades... itís growing dim.
Tho this should be bright Autumn day, My heart is chilled, my sight is grey. And gleam of hope seems far away, I fear...itís growing dim.
Again in Spring when all is fair, Midst ache of old wounds hard to bear, For me the sun-bedazzled air Is dark...itís growing dim.
I wander, lost, in realms of night, In fear of blade and sting and bite - Pursue in vain the healing light - It fades...itís growing dim.
Another Spring, another year... This wound grows deeper yet I fear. No hope of peace and wholeness here. It flies...itís growing dim.
So I will take the Road again From Havens to Valarís domain. In Undying Lands, undying pain At last...itís growing dim.