Nothing screams Christmas like the rain falling down in a fight,
and we missed this year after just getting on with our separate lives.
Nothing screams I miss you more than songs with their secrets in the lines
so if this Trojan Horse should gallop into Troy, I'd be happy enough with that.
Ah, you don't love me, at least not that I know of.
You never talk to me so how am I supposed to know, love?
Nothing screams winter like the whistle in the pine of the trees
or the wind back in colour into pairs of horn over cheeks.
Nothing screams I'm lonely like a walk to the river just to think
and watch the water as it lurches like a blood red flood of memories.
You don't love me, at least not that I know of.
You never talk to me so how am I supposed to know, love?
(She screams Christmas)
You don't love me, at least not that I know of.
You never talk to me so how am I supposed to know, love?
No, you don't love me, at least not that I know of.
You never talk to me so how am I supposed to know, love?