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