The roads around here are straight Lead over mountains and mounds Here you will never get lost For all roads lead to your death You will turn into Into dust on the road Into a grain of sand On a bank of a river You will turn into Into a speck on a forest path Into a grain of sand The sweet substance of your blood With rushing waters will merge It will settle on the rivers bed Snow upon your grave mound Only Tuonelas river Is winding and crooked When fed to its rapids You will be ground Your flesh torn from your bones Your bones spat on its banks You will turn into Into dust on the road Into a grain of sand On a bank of a river You will turn into Into a speck on a forest path Into a grain of sand Your flesh torn from your bones Your bones spat on its banks Your flesh Only Tuonelas river Your bones Your flesh torn from your bones Your bones spat on its banks
bank, bone, grain, river, spat