Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book Iīm afraid to write
Itīs the book of my days, itīs the book of my life
And itīs cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And itīs all there to see as the section reveals
Thereīs some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I wonīt understand ītil the end of my days
Iīm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
Thereīs a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
Thereīs a chapter on loss and a ghost who wonīt die
Thereīs a chapter on love where the inkīs never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I canīt see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Thereīs a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
Thereīs a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldnīt be planned
Thereīs a chapter on god that I donīt understand
Thereīs a promise of Heaven and Hell but Iīm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I canīt see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylightīs returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all thatīs left is you
Though the pages are numbered
I canīt see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
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