Boxing Night

Intro: It's boxing night I celebrate in style with boxer shorts and spirits floor litteed with ghosts of bottles passed There's a naked hush clothed only with breath and a pulse of a heart that is kicking as though it is desperate to be born and I'm hostage blind deaf to the din outside Good Glasgow could burn to it's bones (timber?) tonight and I'd barely blink an eye well the clock just stopped put that on my fucking headstone (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 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 we fell in the Forth from a heavy right hook to a blushed 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 all night any more I can't call you full stop though you know you can call me up any time call me 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 (