Texty: Trash Can Sinatras. January's Little Joke.

All I can hear is the clucking of tongues
I can see them plucking at crumbs of conversations
A drunk uncle's breath and they're touching my hand
As now turns into then, dream turns into dreamt
Spend turns into spent, one turns into one too many
(Say when)

And in the blue corner crouches a mediocre joker
The laughs are on me and the arch of my back
Cracks under the weight of the wisecracks
Stop the clock, I want to get off

Though I knew what argue meant
And I knew what punish meant
And I knew what embarrass meant
I never found out what achieve meant

All heaven broke loose
But I knew they had something to hide
They were turning the page
But I glimpsed the very last line

Now we raise a toast to celebrate
As December's embers fade
But every fire is just a hoax
For January's little joke