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