Counting Down
Distance is in relation to guilt
And your voice is sounding foreign
We imbibe, gullets full to the hilt
Divided I fall, united you stand
A name rings out through power lines
Lines don't work without some conviction
And the earache loudly chimes
Back scratched broken glass, new bruise
Upward hands start to descend
Following the pattern of the night's end
Happy same old new year, if you can hear