Seven Years

Haven't seen the sun for seven days

November's got her nails dug in deep

Haven't seen my son for seven years

and the chances are we'll never again meet



If truth be told I don't even know his name

If truth be told he doesn't even know my name



I spend my spare time with my rosary beads

although I never learnt to pray

but you don't need the light

and it's best to pretend

that you've seen the errors of your ways



The darkness in here

is as heavy as a judgement

This darkness, heavy as a judgement



My dreams are now filled with Gilead trees

and other sights that I've never seen

They used to be filled

with the fears of tomorrow

and the horror that it might bring



His eyes felt to me

as cold as a stone mason's chisel

His eyes fell on me, cold

like a stone mason's chisel



Strange how a mind can always recall

what the senses eagerly leave behind

I can remember his face, rage,

disgust and distaste

but to my fear I have grown blind



Memories are just dead men making trouble

this memory is just a dead man making trouble


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