Miss Christmas

And the last verse is always the most well-written
Cause by then, you've caught up with what it is you're writing
And the last call for drinks, leave your supper in the sink
Cause boy, your liver and your heart are either fucking or fighting
And Christmas came like a yellow sign on the door
Reading "we've gotta get out of this place"
And I've never been very yellow before
Till Santa blew the chimney without a trace
And I miss Christmas
Small talk we'll see one day in "what do you do" and
"When I was your age" and "indie rock, weird weather,
I've been fine"
And oh, what with their tchotchkes and their knick-knacks
And their car keys, their definition of seeing seems so blind
But you and me, we're flying free
Above buff thumbs and plastic trees
And bad art and the pursuit of sincerity
Tie down my eyes with your body design
Molded by someone with something in mind
And I don't miss Christmas
And I love Christmas
You fabricated creeds like you were bleaching blue jeans
But you still sense the blue a little, don't you?
You masturbated dreams and never touched the real thing
And now you'll set alarm clocks forever, won't you?
So crucify the ides of time, out the corner of your eye
See reindeer born from around the corner
Dropped your own self and his worries off the shelf
Leave the doubts but boy pick up the former
And you'll see Christmas
And you, Miss Christmas