If truth be told, he doesn't even know my name
If truth be told, I don't even know his name
Memories are just dead men making trouble
This memory is just a dead man making trouble
Haven't seen my son for seven years
This memory is just a dead man making trouble
But to my fear, I have grown blind
Although I never learnt to pray
His eyes felt to me as cold as the stone mason's chisel
Strange how a mind can always recall
And the horror that it might bring
I spend my spare time with my rosary beads
They used to be filled with the fears of tomorrow
But you don't need the light and it's best to pretend
Memories are just dead men making trouble
Haven't seen my son for seven years
The dreams are now filled with Gilead trees
And the chances are we'll never again meet
What the senses eagerly leave behind
And other sights that I've not seen
I can remember his face, rage, disgust and distaste
That you've seen the errors of your ways
The darkness in here is as heavy as a judgement
Haven't seen the sun for seven days
And the chances are we'll never meet
November's got her nails dug in deep
Memories are just dead men making trouble
His eyes fell on me, cold, like a stone mason's chisel
This darkness, heavy as a judgement
