The High Holy Days

It’s time for family to part,

It comes with the season,

Don’t know how it starts,

But I can give you reasons,

I’ll take the blame and the brunt

Of the weight, like Atlas on his shoulders,

Most days it’s a game

Of torture and maim,

To see whose heart is really colder.

I need and miss them,

Love them and kiss them

Goodbye.

 

Nothing holy about these days,

What we put out and who’s there to pay,

I know that the words do no good,

I’m thankful you kept the family together as long as you could.

The feast of Thursday begins,

At 1:00 at my sister Jenn’s.

Nice weather good for football outside,

And I’ll be 200 miles away due to pride.

And again the blame falls square on my back,

There are some things you can give and never take back.

Pride is the sin,

That will pull you in,

And never ever give you any slack.

I need and miss them,

Love them and kiss them

Goodbye.

 

Nothing holy about these days,

What we put out and who’s there to pay,

I know that the words do no good,

I’m thankful you kept the family together as long as you could.