Years gone by without a passing soul
right there!, up in the hills with its winding roads.

Then, in midst of darkness an ever increasing small light shone
right there!, coming up the winding roads.

The steel horse stopped with his brute of a king
right there!, at the top of the winding roads.

The light shone bright when he looked around with his mighty view
then saw the ruined darkened place in the undergrowth barely for anyone to see
cautiously he made his way to find out its meaning of cruel true
then turned around half way when the undergrowth became to much to be.

His steel horse carrying that so now frightened brute of something but not a king
right there!, into the darkness going back down the winding roads.

Now beauty who lives up those hills in the undergrowth
will wait patiently for another passing soul,
right there! with its winding roads.