Grandmother's wheelchair is sitting in the corner
|
We all sure love her, but the little ones avoid her
|
Cause she's gray-haired and wrinkled and her burden looks heavy
|
Ninety years of survival can look awful scary
|
Papa's building something and has since history
|
But what he's building is still a mystery
|
It's big and it's twisting and shaped convoluted
|
It don't have a function but you better salute it
|
And it will never be finished but I guess that's the point
|
It just gives him a filter and psychological ointment
|
He woke up real early but he's late for his appointment
|
And I sure wish that I had smoked me a joint
|
It's Thanksgiving and Jesus, I'm thankful
|
For abundance and bounty and a big tall stiff drink-full
|
And the love of your mother and the love of mine too
|
Thanksgiving's almost over and Christmas is soon
|
Mama is trying to live in the present
|
Don't let him have a heart attack before I pay off the presents
|
Granddaddy's gone but she still feels his presence
|
He tried to call but he didn't leave a message
|
It's Thanksgiving and Jesus I'm thankfula¢æ|
|
So put the food on the table and Papa says a blessing
|
They're cutting up some turkey and gobbling some dressing
|
My Aunt's praising Palin and my niece loves Obama
|
My uncle came to dinner wearing his pajamas
|
Thank God for the filter that enables some distance
|
From the screaming and crying and the needs of assistance
|
You wonder why I drink and curse the holidays
|
Blessed be my family from 300 miles away
|
It's Thanksgiving and Jesus I'm thankfula¢æ|
|
|
-----------------
|
The Thanksgiving Filter
|
Drive-By Truckers |