all i can hear is the clucking of tongues i can see them plucking at crumbs of conversations a drunk uncle s breath and they re touching my hand as now turns into then dream turns into dreamt spend turns into spent one turns into one too many say when and in the blue corner crouches a mediocre joker the laughs are on me and the arch of my back cracks under the weight of the wisecracks stop the clock i wanna get off though i knew what argue meant and i knew what punish meant and i knew what embarrass meant i never found out what achieve meant all heaven broke loose but i knew they had something to hide they were turning the page but i glimpsed the very last line now we raise a toast to celebrate as december s embers fade but every fire is just a hoax for january s little joke