I’m sitting near the back row Of the dim concert hall— And see an old man there who's lived through it all And as the music plays a harmony, I see his tears start to fall— As he remembers his lost brothers who for their country would fall He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years. Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears. He’s not marching in line, but he’s still moving on— And the weight of the past will never be gone. The chords start to echo, and I see in his eyes— He’s back in the trenches, beneath foreign skies. His friends are still with him though they never came home— And he feels the hidden scars only his heart knows. He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years. Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears. He’s not marching in line, but he’s still moving on— Yes, the weight of the past will never be gone. Time doesn’t take it away, but life slowly moves on In her melody and arms he knows where he now belongs Her loving hands hold him steady—they have for so many years She’s held him at night when the dreams brought the fears And the tears that still fall are part of his song— He’s carried by love, though that weight stays lifelong. He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years. Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears. He’s not marching in line, but she’s helped him move on— Love helps carry the weight that will never be gone.
