We turn back on ourselves
to find ourself,
it's at times a long journey,
but the sights we see
remind you and me
that it's worth it.

All singing and dancing,
but
that's kept for a night in
which happened to be
sometime back in '63.

Did Santa
feed the reindeer, dear?
I asked of her
quite innocently,

She looked at me with
the look that She gives me
and asked me
was that a joke?

No
no
no, it cannot be
but I see that it's true
there's still work to do.
wonders if
should I call in sick?

but you know
and I know
that's not good for the
economy.

What a relaxing time Christmas can be,
said no big family ever.

Was it good for you?
said he,
She never replied.

But it's fun and the sum of all good wishes.

There'll be more

Blinded by the flares we'd thought behind us
thinking how in hell did that mustard manage to blind us,
we wandered home as ghosts alone
wondering did this war define us.

A full belly
a bit of telly
an afternoon
with family and
friends,

had forty winks,
methinks
I'm getting old

but I think again
not yet.

If only I'd believed it was butter
I wouldn't have to work today,

but we all know that belief gets in the way of disbelief
and disbelieving is the way that things are going,

I put the blame squarely on Google,
what could possibly be worse
than a multiverse in your own
backyard?

and now
I think it might be butter
but I still have to work
how is that right?

I surrender to the inevitable,
and become irritable
but am I not invincible?
She laughs and says,
you're incredible.