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Chris T Dec 2014
Lord oh sweet Lord, why You gon'
n' chain me to this porcelain throne.

(Got me missin' drunken uncle's racist rants,
500 pound aunt's heavy pants,
grandpa's yellin' 'cause he can't hear...)

Stuck on the worse of toilet seats
while the family gorges itself n' eats.

(grandma starin' in all out fear
at cousin's piercin's n' tattoos,
sister rollin' eyes at decrepit views...)

No tattered paperback nor newspaper fo' me to read,
big o' slab of turkey n' p'tatoes waitin' fo' me to feed.

(mum been sweatin' in the kitchen
dad been swearin' 'bout religion,
lonely neighbor chuggin' nog...)

Here I am Lord, when will I get out?
food's gettin' colder n' I'd love to stuff my snout.

(little ones outside pettin' the dog,
others discussin' St. Nick,
knockin' on the bathroom door for a trick.)

Lord oh sweet Lord, how will I survive? You left no clues.
Instead, You come n' given me the Christmas toilet blues.
'Tis the season to be draftin'.

— The End —