What will you do when cold winds turn you blue
and your home is a long way from the Summer?

The old girl in the doorway frantically looking for a way out
and yet she doesn't seem to move at all,

she's
between a rock and a hard place
and for convenience, we'll call the
hard place a wall
and her back's against it

Christmas time
and a fine time to be in the
firing line,

but we're all fine aren't we
full of bonhomie
joviality
or full of
me, me, me?

it's
easier to be
unaware of what's
going on
out there
when you don't see.