They're all ghosts now.
They had the greatest Christmas tree
In the world. All dressed up
And nowhere to go
Except in the corner
Watching over all the gifts.
Parents who provided everything and more
Father even built a small gas station
With a two-tier garage, a parking
On top and a slide for our toy cars,
Big Brother, the oldest one,
A teacher in his soul and his whole life long
But gone too soon.
Some of them invading my dreams
Ghosts dropping in on my weird dreams
Somehow beckoning me
To come and join them
Wherever they are, wherever they may be
In heaven, assuredly
For they all worked very hard
To make a living
To make things work
Positive they were
Loving life as I never did
But they are sending positive signals
Cheering me on as I slowly
Do my best to move along.