For the Holidays

A simple decision I came to accept at a younger age than known I don’t remember my earlier birthdays But since it fell in place September, November, December Then it’s a depressional season alone If it were up to me, when I reached seven I would have been heavenly gone And you ask me Will I be coming home for the holidays? Holidays, they come, they go For smiles and snow, a New York warmth I’d trade with any convict doing death row You punish me, but it seems to be Something more than mischief A flaw in your parental morals Let’s graph the hope held in each poor child You and I We have-nots were claimed as plurals Life long friends How much more can we endure pal Do you no longer ask If I’ll be home for the holidays This is for your birthday, each passing Christmas The wars in which you continue to enlist us The days you missed us The casualties whom bit the dust The individuals whom pissed on trust For those entitled to this imperishable crush Will you be home for the holidays?