The Home Down the Road

The home down the road…

It’s where the young American man goes

The home down the road…

It’s where he makes his brevilles

It’s there he spends his Friday nights

There he goes for a touch of home.

Ah home

So warm and cozy

So nice and neat

So good ‘n’ lovely

So oddly similar

To the home down the road…

The young American man

G-d sent him to this country

To find the man he is

To decipher what it is he’s searching.

To collect the treasures and plant the seeds

Of his future and destiny.

So G-d made him find a home…

…Or rather…

Made a home find him

So he won’t forget from whence he came,

That he came from a home, a real home

Like the home down the road…

10,000 miles

Across the sea in a distant land

Nine months and two to go

And eleven after that

But the young man hardly feels it.

Whenever down whenever sad

When overwhelmed or overworked

Whenever bored whenever lonely

To escape his peers and dinky room,

The young man has what the other boys don’t;

The home down the road…

The mother is so sweet

The father is so funny

The parents are so nice

The classic type

So much like the young man’s own.

Proof is in the kids

Whom they raised so fine

Chassidish and bright, so genuine

Ambitious and thinking, quite entrepreneurial

Enthusiastic and wholehearted, a real good kid

That family, that lovely little bunch

At the home down the road…

Why do good things die?

Why must such people, such places only come in passing?

Two years

It seems all the young man has.

He saddened by what he cannot seem to change:

Good things end.

Good things

Like the home down the road…

Aye

But good things still stay good

For they don’t really end at all

Instead they turn to memories.

And what’s the present,

If not sweetened by the past?

Sweetened,

By the home down the road…