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The Lucksmiths

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The Lucksmiths

Get-to-Bed Birds

A shit year ends I kiss my friends
We raise half empty glasses
To the next one
And the night wears on

Not for us the usual fuss
The useless resolutions
But most a line of auld lang syne

Far away
Fireworks are exploding
And the champagne flutes are full
To overflowing

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So at first light I say goodnight
And while the suburb slumbers
I stumble around the stomping ground

Past the pub they're pretty up
For all the so-called locals
And past the house
That once was ours

And here I am
Another year beginning
Half-way home with the get-to-bed birds singing