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Cowboy Junkies Pale Sun, Crescent Moon 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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