Numbers

In numbers
Find smiles
The first
Brings sadness
Alone

36
month and day
we all should pray
are spent with numbers
so plenty

Never just is that first

The best christmas song, bar none!

The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale of New York: So crass, human, revealing and incredibly beautiful all at the same time. One of my favorite songs ever, not just Christmas oriented.

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

Step Step stream my conscious gleam

Light steps on thin ice might
sight up the chancy flight
crisscrossed cracks give insight

easy to see that it is opaque below
stowaways better off out than in
when descents begin, fear traps
pulled down the pressure will collapse

face the chance of loosing, being beaten
mingle on decks of gold laces singles
crinkle wads of paper waste worth
millions because the pictures straight

smile wider than their doubt throughout
safe in transparent masks with tax
on time, won't raise an eye
won't shake won't cry

because we all belong the same
hidden vastly distant shame
in all of us it has a name
in all of us we hate it's stain

a stream of conscious babbling
mixes messages and twisted meanings
interpret things the way they see them
they can't be wrong
No measured meanings

Deliberate deceit and fleeting
being without a structured beat

no rhyme.
no reason.