It's Boxing Night I celebrate in style Boxer shorts and spirits floor littered with ghosts of bottles past
There's a naked hush Hold only a breath and a pulse Of a heart that was kicking as though it is desperate to be born
And I'm hosted blind Deaf to the din outside Good Glasgow could burn to it's bones tonight and I'd barely blink an eye
Well the clock just stopped Put back my fucking headstone Won't something move so I stop staring a hole into the phone?
You can get me at home I'll be drinking to death 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
And we fell in the Forth from a heavy right hook To a blush and swollen face And in a single blow it's murdered and now it takes years to waste away
Well I can't call you online anymore Oh I can't call you fullstop Oh you know you can call me up Any time call me up For whatever the fuck you want
You can get me at home I'll be drinking to death Just me and these walls And a beaten up chair You can get me at home I'll be drinking to death Just me and these walls And my beaten up chair On Boxing Day