a baron sea of white powder, each flake drifts a-rye
the air is suffocated with snow, as white sheets split the sky
the oak sits with lost decour, great frosts twinge its spine
grasping toward the little chimney, where warmth spills and dies
...
now little Gina nestles comfortably by the mantle - reading books
with not a worry on her mind, so blind, with innocent seeded looks
down the wood floor at her brother, Tommy, about to turn thirteen
flicking the matches he found in grampas pipe box, burning leaves
and turning cheeks - cos mommy just found him, snatched the fire sticks
i guess playing with flames in a house made of wood was not a finer thing
but it was too cold to play on the tire swing, and daddy was hard at work
- a carpenter - he made cabinets, but really loved carving wood
and he really loved his booze, well - its not so much a love but fuel
so lets say there were days in school when Tommy said he fell on tools
and that explained Gina's swollen lip - i guess the kids were prone to trip
but when daddy came home late, mommy knew to scold them quick
and send them off to bed - it was all really quite American
from the beat up Ford in the drive way to the way Gramps mocked the derelicts
buds and bees and birds return, a cricket chirps its tune
color's back in fashion, spread the butterflies all burst cacooons
Tommy loved his dad - wanted to be just like him when he got older
every kid needs an idol to write essays about and see as bolder
and now Tommy was staying late after school for sparking fights
he just wanted to mimic daddy - he heard the sounds at dark in nights
deep down he was a good kid, sense of humor - though the darkest kind
the type to wave a bloody cloth in water to see if sharks would bite
and, though mommy hated his marked outcries, Tommy was her baby boy
and even as it blasted in her face, she refused to face the noise
so she ignored the teacher calls, "how can they speak ill of little Tommy?"
its a shame Tommy despised her, approached with spitting, mocking
the frying pan just called, and soon she'd hear the griddle knocking
the trees and shrubs and leaves and such full bloom, and drum fortunes
and the warmth becomes heat, so then the heat becomes tourture
Grampa had died last week - a tragedy to all that knew him
but presently, Gina was jumping rope beside the oak with quickened movement
Tommy was clutching a magnifying glass and burning ants
trying to concentrate and kill over his sisters disturbing rants
"SHUT UP" - he billowed, a temperment that had grown the last months
still volitile from the All-Star Baseball team where he was past up
he packed up, tried to run away, but had nowhere to run to
so he's stuck screaming at his sister, his facial glare declared 'disgruntled'
but she didn't stop her chanting, nor her rope jumping nor her smiling
Tommy's anger built and built, his teeth were steady grinding
till he lashed out, ran across to the oak and slammed her down
threw two fists into her face, until mommy began to shout
the leaves have found a new shade, a red and yellow complexion
and though the thorns remain on roses, it seems the petals have left it
with a shaking right hand, daddy staggers into the living room
mommy and Gina are getting their hair cut at the salon, with scissors, spools
..and all sorts of gadgets and things men want no part of
Tommy's happy he gets to hang out with his dad, and go to a barber
and he had just returned from his counciling session, though he hated them
fourty minutes of questions, chewed on longer than tasteless gum
- he played with them, but they seemed to know him better than ever
he only went because it gives him a chance to where his good sweater
......and now he's showing daddy his newest baseball cards before they leave
daddy tries to brush him off, but he doesn't seem to see
so a push - a shove away, "leave me alone you rotten kid"
but daddy didn't notice the recent actions and the way Tommy gets
and so when mommy and Gina returned, in through the doorstep
they saw daddy propped up with a machette stuck in his torn neck
and the words "Just Like Daddy" carved deep in his forehead
a wind blew through the forest, through the branches great and tall
and that same wind grasped the brown leaves from the oak and made them fall...
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