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