Well, I promise   there's no truth   in that lovely, wooden home   you spent your youth.  I promise   that I won't leave  before you dress my arms   back up in sleeves,   Mama, oh Mama.  Where's the trust in running?  Baby cool your head, I'm coming.    I've hunted   down my past,   held it close to the earth.  I made it last.  But now   solace still keeps my head,   just knowing all that's said, and done   is simply dead,   Father, oh Father.  My thoughts they all come drumming.  Telling me to just keep humming,   Mama, oh Mama.  Where's the trust in running?  Baby cool your head, I'm coming