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lyrics

I saw the red alerts as bright as santa's cap
Hung up like tinsel on the weather warnings map
Hey but I see no colours out tonight
No, the window's like a blank sheet of paper just as white as snow

I heard the news proclaim bleak tidings from the sky
Icebound commuters forced to pause their working lives
But their smiles say they're glad to lose their gold
For a day off just to play with their children in the cold throwing snowballs

The angels at last have time to fly
See the stars and let them guide you home
And grace has descended from on high
And covered all our dark streets with light
And they call it disruption; I call it Christmas!

Just a snowy Monday in mid January
Let's call it Christmas

I've seen the drivers
Bold enough or fool enough to spin their luck upon the frozen tarmac
Doesn't matter if they drive a white van or a jag
Or if the ice is white or if it's black
All the people band together to heave up every slope
And shovels aplenty get them home
Their reservedness as potholed as the road

I heard the Met police were called to Primrose Hill
For some disorder had disturbed the morning chill
But when they saw the protesters sledging down
They sat upon their riot shields and joined the laughing crowd down the snow slide

The angels at last have time to fly
See the stars and let them guide you home
grace has descended from on high
And covered all our dark streets, covered all our parked up idles to greed, covered all our refuse with light
And they call it disruption; I call it Christmas!

Just look out the window; it might as well be Christmas

I've felt the driving sleet, the weeks without the sun
The bitter cold of all the wrong our race has done
And though we're far from that promised peace on earth
I've seen the star and I'll go for what it's worth
yes I'll go

Where the lords are made low
Where forgiveness drifts like snow
Till our city is a blank sheet of paper
All our rushing and our roads who'd remember
The poor will laugh at the sight
All our riches buried overnight
Now this moment is a blank sheet of paper
On which to write love, we're starting over

The angels will sing it in the sky
and the stars will guide us there at last
Mammon is buried, love is nigh
And all is peace and all is shared
And they call it disruption; I call it Christmas!

Just call it Christmas, you've been working hard so have a day off and call it Christmas, hey merry Christmas!

credits

from The Plum Puddings (Of Desolation), released December 13, 2015

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The Brooms of Destruction UK

Passionately silly musicians, writing & playing an eclectic bunch of songs about world issues and cookies. Met while reading at Reading Uni.

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