Get-to-Bed Birds - The Lucksmiths

A shit year ends I kiss my friends

We raise half empty glasses

To the next one

And the night wears on

Not for us the usual fuss

The useless resolutions

But most a line of auld lang syne

Far away

Fireworks are exploding

And the champagne flutes are full

To overflowing

So at first light I say goodnight

And while the suburb slumbers

I stumble around the stomping ground

Past the pub they’re pretty up

For all the so-called locals

And past the house

That once was ours

And here I am

Another year beginning

Half-way home with the get-to-bed birds singing