The Mezuzah (Mezuzah Charm) - Jill Sobule

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?