Christmas Talk Songtext
von Ulysse Marshall

Where do you think we′re headed?
With this little world of yours
And those little sounds you make
Inside your tiny little town
You wish you were a pale orchid
And your children were all blond
No sails, no weird thought, no motion
Twenty grey candles burn your soul
I never met a young woman
With so much
Fucked up world-twisting power
You're dressed up as you′re 60
The world you're in
Wrapped up in your kin
I never met a young woman
With so much
Fucked up world-twisting power
You're dressed up as you′re 60
The world you′re in
Wrapped up in your kin


I think you've got no excuses
You self-respectful little tsar
You could be dancing with the Muses
You should be lightening up the stars
There′s us and there's them as you might know
All this wolf-pack Christmas talk
Makes me feel like an empty sad crow
Makes me feel like a lonely hawk
I never met a young woman
With so much
Fucked up world-twisting power
You′re dressed up as you're 60
The world you′re in
Wrapped up in your kin
I never met a young woman
With so much
Fucked up world-twisting power
You're dressed up as you're 60
The world you′re in
Wrapped up in your kin
Never met a girl like you before
You wish you were a pale orchid
Twenty grey candles burn your soul
Within that tiny little place of yours