Boxing Night

Boxing Night
I celebrate in style
In boxer shorts and spirits
Floor littered with ghosts of bottles past
There’s a naked hush
Clothed only in breath and a pulse
Of a heart that is kicking
As though it is desperate to be born
I am hostage blind
Deaf to the din outside
Good Glasgow could burn to it’s timber tonight
And I’d barely blink an eye
Well, the clock just stopped
You can cut that into my headstone
Won’t something move so I stop staring
A hole into the phone?
You can get me at home
With a drink to ill health
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
Well I fell in the Forth from a heavy right hook
To a blushed and swollen face
And in a single blow it’s murdered
And then it takes years to waste away
I can’t call you all mine anymore
Ah, I can’t call you fullstop
But you know you can call me up any time, call me
Whatever the fuck you want
You can get me at home
With a drink to ill health
Just me and these walls
And a beaten up chair
You can get me at home
With a drink to ill health
Just me and these walls
And my beaten up chair
On Boxing Day