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There is a path by Lake Bras d'Or I never go there anymore It's not the same, since you and I The path is narrow, over-grown The few that thread there, thread alone A patch of land, I call my own I planted seeds, some have grown But weeds have choked the few remains My crop has withered in the sun Doomed before it had begun I thought I read the writing on the wall Turned out that it was just a bit of scrawl I walked along, tasting my defeat - There was a time when what was writ Seemed to me clear, and full of wit There is a path by Lake Bras d'Or I never go there anymore It's not the same, since you and I The path is narrow, over-grown The few that thread there, thread alone (Grazie a Scram per questo testo) From Letras Mania