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 its timber tonight, 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 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 In a single blow it's murdered and then it takes years to waste away I can't call you all mine anymore I can't call you, full stop But you know you can call me up anytime 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 a beaten up chair On boxing day