Two sisters young climb up a tree
In the snow of Christmas day
They peek over the fence to watch, to see
How the neighbor children play.
They climb back down, they go inside
To see mother passed out on the floor.
The sisters take to their room and hide,
Spirits broken, hearts sore.
Ten years on, and its Christmas again,
And baby sister is a mother of five.
The tree is lit, but her husband's on the gin,
And he's asking for the keys to drive.
His pleading demand, the mother resists
She knows he won't make it through town
So he raises his voice as well as his fists
Throwing both tree and children to the ground.
Some twenty years pass, it's Christmas once more.
The youngest son is now a man.
But like a child, he lies asleep on the floor,
As I, his daughter, hold his hand.
To his love of drink, the family curse,
He's lost wealth and wife the same.
He has fallen from grace, and what is worse,
He has no one but himself to blame.
Ten years from then, and I am grown
With high hopes and level mind.
I am fuilled with intentions to atone
The Legacy those others left behind.
I will change the way the bricks were laid.
Despite my family's sins.
I will change the path my heritage has paved
And let my home not be cursed by drink again.