歌词
[Verse 1]
The Van Pelt parties go late into the night
Intellectuals and artists and socialites
Grown-ups getting wasted and eating appetizers
And me, I was maybe eight years old
Watching everyone line up at the punch bowl
Allegations of things about which I didn't know yet
[Verse 2]
Artifacts and art filled up where they lived
Hardwood floors and antique rugs where drinks were spilled
Punch and mistletoe, stolen kisses, stolen pills
I surmised, holding court alone upstairs
The complexity of dirty jokes and grown-up love affairs
Oh, the secrets that spill out amongst the Christmas cheer
[Bridge]
By fourteen, I'd figured out that no one else would notice
If I helped myself to Christmas punch and sullenly get loaded
The jokes would all get funnier, mistakes less duly noted
Blurry lights out car windows headed home
2 a.m., Christmas morning
2 a.m., Christmas morning
[Verse 3]
The Van Pelt House stood high upon the hill
A block from University, I guess it's standing still
Haven't been in a long time, the sands of time will kill you
The sands of time will kill you
Now they're gone and I have moved along
To punch bowls and drunken Christmas parties of my own
Somehow less mysterious now that I am grown
[Outro]
Now I'm grown with kids all my own
The sins of my youth are making me atone
Those hands of time, they kill and cut
I miss those Van Pelt parties so much
Written by: Patterson Hood
