Boxing Night

It's Boxing Night

I celebrate in style

Boxer shorts and spirits floor littered with ghosts of bottles past

There's a naked hush

Hold only a breath and a pulse

Of a heart that was kicking as though it is desperate to be born

And I'm hosted blind

Deaf to the din outside

Good Glasgow could burn to it's bones tonight and I'd barely blink an eye

Well the clock just stopped

Put back my fucking headstone

Won't something move so I stop staring a hole into the phone?

You can get me at home

I'll be drinking to death

Just me and these walls

And a beaten up chair

On Boxing Day

This is Boxing Night

And someone lost an eye

Well I swear I've lost the last drop of whatever kept me awake alive

And we fell in the Forth from a heavy right hook

To a blush and swollen face

And in a single blow it's murdered and now it takes years to waste away

Well I can't call you online anymore

Oh I can't call you fullstop

Oh you know you can call me up

Any time call me up

For whatever the fuck you want

You can get me at home

I'll be drinking to death

Just me and these walls

And a beaten up chair

You can get me at home

I'll be drinking to death

Just me and these walls

And my beaten up chair

On Boxing Day