And my son, too, you haunt me, you haunt me, you haunt me, you haunt me, you haunt me. With reverie of days gone by, in my solitude, you taunt me, with memories that never die. I sit in my chair, and filled with despair, there's no one could be so sad. With gloom everywhere, I sit and I swear, I know that I'll soon go mad. In my solitude, mama, I'm praying, dear Lord above, send back my love. I sit in my chair, and filled with despair, there's no one could be so sad. . . . . . .
