With apologies to Less and Fugee, of course, and to
Shane and Kirsty:
It was Christmas Eve, Fuge
On the FB
And TM said to me
“Won’t see another K”
And then he sang a song
Some hip-hop travesty
I logged off rapidly
And looked at old IMs from you
God, I’m a lucky one
Cashed out in Two Thousand One
I’ve got a feeling
This year’s for me and you
So, happy Christmas
(I found Him at last)
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true.
We had cars made by Nazis
We had watches of gold
But the cash went right through us
There’s no place for your soul
When you first read my posts
On the old Yahoo board
You promised me
Cravath was waiting for me
You were Skadden
You were Schulte
Queen of their box bitches
When the crew finished sorting
You howled out for more
Paigow was still posting,
On the X , we were dosing
We kissed in Slave’s kitchen
Then raved through the night
The boys of the Greedy New York Board
Were screaming for more pay
And the socks were crying out
For Breasticle Day
You’re a lech
You’re a prude
You’re an old sock on ludes
Lying there almost dead, with no chick in your bed
You’re Penske, You’re Kafka
You cheap lousy socka
Over drinks at the Campbell
You rated my arse
I could have made GP
Well, Sidd did, so big whoopee
You took VSO from me
When I first found you
I kept it with me, Fuge
In my sock drawer, all alone
Can’t make it work, no how
My imaginary life is built around you.
