Lucksmiths
Get-To-Bed Birds
A shit year ends I kiss my friendsWe raise half empty glassesTo the next oneAnd the night wears onNot for us the usual fussThe useless resolutionsBut most a line of auld lang syneFar awayFireworks are explodingAnd the champagne flutes are fullTo overflowingSo at first light I say goodnightAnd while the suburb slumbersI stumble around the stomping groundPast the pub they're pretty upFor all the so-called localsAnd past the houseThat once was oursAnd here I amAnother year beginningHalf-way home with the get-to-bed birds singing
From Letras Mania