The Mezuzah
I've traveled to cities you've never seen
Far from the town where I was a teen
To Budapest and west Odense
A million miles from New Providence
Thirty years later, my childhood's gone
The blue-and-white house half-acre lawn
So why do I dwell on the elm tree in back
The mezuzah in front and the books in the stack?
There was nothing to do and the neighbors were mean
I sat in my room and tried not to scream
We fought and we squabbled every third day
And I longed for the time when I'd go far away
I never look back and I try to forget
So why do I think of this house with regret?
Why do I dwell on the elm tree in back
The mezuzah in front and the books in the stack?
Now I walk to work under a mackerel sky
The tears start to slide, I can't fathom why
It's been nine years since you're in a grave
I keep on living and I even forgave
How you died in front of me that day
The clocks keeps ticking as you slide away
And time stood still for a full year
While I pretend you were near
Mom, you died in front of me that day
Four paramedics, they couldn't say
That you would live to comfort me
Or one day know who I would be
I never look back and I try to forget
So why do I think of the house with regret?
Why do I dwell on the elm tree in back
The mezuzah in front and the books in the stack?
I never look back and I try to forget
So why do I think of the house with regret?
Why do I dwell on the elm tree in back
The mezuzah in front and the books in the stack?