Pop open a bottle of bubbly…yeah. Here’s to another goddamn new year. And outside, 2 million drunk Bostonians Are getting ready to sing “Auld Lang Sine”…out of tune. I sit there in my easy chair, looking at the clouds, orange with celebration And I wonder if you’re out there. Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy And reflects no light, in day or night And I slip on it every time Pop open a third bottle of bubbly Yeah, and I take that bottle of champagne Go into the kitchen, stand in front of the kitchen window And I take all my clothes off, take that bottle of champagne And I pour it on my head, feel it cascade through my hair And across my chest, and the phone rings. And it’s my mother. And she says “HI HONEY HOW’S BOSTON?” And I stand there, all alone on New Year’s Eve Buck naked, drenched in champagne, looking at a bunch of strangers Uh, looking at them, looking at me, looking at them, and I say: “Oh, I’m fine Mom—how’s Washington?” Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy And reflects no light, in day or night And I slip on it every time Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy And reflects no light, in day or night And I slip on it every time, time, time, time, yeah… So I guess the party line is I followed you up here. Well, I don’t know about that. Mainly because knowing about that would involve knowing some pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely true things about myself that I’d rather not admit to right now. Woke up at 3 A.M. with the radio on, that Gladys Knight and the Pips song on About how she’d rather live in his world with him Than live in her own world alone And I lay there, head spinning, trying to fall asleep And I thought to myself: “Oh, Gladys, girl, I love you but, oh—get a life!” Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy And reflects no light, in day or night And I slip on it every time Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy And reflects no light, in day or night And I slip on it every time