Testo 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