Oh, memory divine I wonder When death to death is done I wonder I need to lick a late Late, late passion At every station of The cross The cross Never is nothing here Child, I wonder We need to sleep to die I wonder Your heart is in a race Never, never lose the will We love dying men Oh Lord, let me know The wonder Oh Lord, let me know It's a cold, cold, cold Christmas At every station of The cross The cross You mean my night is wrong I wonder How do you feel, babe? I wonder I'm a fool, fool, fool Itch of desire Is there nothing left, Lord? Nothing left but bones But bones Oh, memory divine I wonder Oh, memory divine