For sure there are a lot of tears, but I'm not crying.
Funny that, being dead, I might weep for love but only in my head.
She takes a tray, brings round the tea, customs calling.
They've ribboned off a room for eating in and another one for grieving.
Whisky burns, sheds the coats, but the ones who need it most are too ragged in the throat,
And they would have me sing of you, that you were just on loan,
Another flower in the basket of the master,
And if I bite the tongue that speaks of you and I change your room around
Would I forget you any faster?

You were a weight upon their shoulders,
They carried you so far, too big for sympathy at school,
A bright and lawless spark, they're setting up your image now,
And they're playing by their empty social rules
And they would have me sing of you, that you were just on loan,
Another flower in the basket of the master,
And if I bite the tongue that speaks of you and I change your room around,
Would I forget you any faster.

Sometimes I dream that you are back, imagine what it would be like,
To see how we'd spend the day, but I think we'd still only fight,
You haven't gone beyond my love, beyond my prayers,
There has to be a heaven somewhere,
And they would have me sing of you, that you were just on loan,
Another flower in the basket of the master,
And if I bite the tongue that speaks of you and I change your room around
Would I forget you any faster?

It's good to be remembered but I know you'd hate their show
And I wish before you went that they had only let you know
It's good to be remembered but I shouldn't have let you go
And I wish before you went that I had only let you know.