01 Mar 1997
Pop open a bottle of bubbly
Here's to another goddamn new year
And outside, 2 million drunk Bostonians are getting ready to sing<em> Auld Lang Syne</em> out of tune
I sit there in my easy chair, looking at the clouds orange with celebration
And I wonder if you're out there
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
Pop open a third bottle of bubbly
Yeah, and I take that bottle of champagne
Go into the kitchen, stand in front of the kitchen window
And I take all my clothes off, take that bottle of champagne
And I pour it on my head, feel it cascade through my hair
And across my chest, and the phone rings.
And it's my mother.
And she says “HI HONEY HOW'S BOSTON?"
And I stand there, all alone on New Year's Eve
Buck naked, drenched in champagne, looking at a bunch of strangers
Uh, looking at them, looking at me, looking at them, and I say:
“Oh, I'm fine Mom—how's Washington?"
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
So I guess the party line is I followed you up here
Well, I don't know about that
Mainly because knowing about that would involve knowing some pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely true things about myself that I'd rather not admit to right now.
Woke up at 3 A.M. with the radio on, that Gladys Knight and the Pips song on
About how she'd rather live in his world with him
Than live in her own world alone
And I lay there, head spinning, trying to fall asleep
And I thought to myself: “Oh, Gladys, girl, I love you but, oh—get a life!"
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
Here's to another goddamn new year
And outside, 2 million drunk Bostonians are getting ready to sing<em> Auld Lang Syne</em> out of tune
I sit there in my easy chair, looking at the clouds orange with celebration
And I wonder if you're out there
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
Pop open a third bottle of bubbly
Yeah, and I take that bottle of champagne
Go into the kitchen, stand in front of the kitchen window
And I take all my clothes off, take that bottle of champagne
And I pour it on my head, feel it cascade through my hair
And across my chest, and the phone rings.
And it's my mother.
And she says “HI HONEY HOW'S BOSTON?"
And I stand there, all alone on New Year's Eve
Buck naked, drenched in champagne, looking at a bunch of strangers
Uh, looking at them, looking at me, looking at them, and I say:
“Oh, I'm fine Mom—how's Washington?"
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
So I guess the party line is I followed you up here
Well, I don't know about that
Mainly because knowing about that would involve knowing some pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely true things about myself that I'd rather not admit to right now.
Woke up at 3 A.M. with the radio on, that Gladys Knight and the Pips song on
About how she'd rather live in his world with him
Than live in her own world alone
And I lay there, head spinning, trying to fall asleep
And I thought to myself: “Oh, Gladys, girl, I love you but, oh—get a life!"
Hey! The ice of Boston is muddy
And reflects no light, in day or night
And I slip on it every time
