Thursday, July 31, 2008

Fairy Tale of New York

Many moons removed from Christmas and yet, and yet what time is not a good time for a Fairy Tale of New York. A little tipsy on the way home from another debauched night. Faced with another day of work .

 It runs through your head and you can't help but think of Kirsty MacColl and you know God must watch over her because, well, we all know why don't we. She said it without the bull shit and there must some place in Heaven for the bold and outspoken few who've made no excuses for their weaknesses. There must be a place for such honesty. Mustn't there?

It was christmas eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, wont see another one
And then he sang a song
The rare old mountain dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
Ive got a feeling
This years for me and you
So happy christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

Theyve got cars big as bars
Theyve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
Its no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold christmas eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of new york city
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the nypd choir
Were singing galway bay
And the bells were ringing out
For christmas day

Youre a bum
Youre a punk
Youre an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy christmas your arse
I pray God its our last

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Cant make it all alone
Ive built my dreams around you

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