The truth is what remains in the center of your head after all other thoughts have flown
Like the last guests at a party who obstinately refuse to leave
Even as you're carrying out the half drunk glasses
Draining the random untouched cocktail
And adding your teeth marks to the cheese
The truth about Christmas is buttonholing you morosely over a virgin Mary that it's taken all evening not to finish
The truth speaks
"Christmas, let's face it, is a miserable occasion.
An oasis of artificial light in a dark wasteland, but there's one conciliation"
What's that?
"You aren't with your family, none of them are here"
I love my family, as individuals
"Nobody loves their family, except crazy people who the family themselves abhor"
Hmmm, would you like some vodka in that?
We have seven bottles left, everybody drank the rosé
"I'm good thanks. It doesn't pay to enjoy yourself at this time of year"
You don't seem in any danger of that.
Can I offer you a cigar?
"You are obviously unaware that it's now illegal to smoke anywhere, except in ? where, by all accounts, the Wi-Fi is dismal"
Well now truth. 
Wouldn't even you admit the joy of colored lights, twinkling over medieval choirs, and the steady exhalation of the family cat - meow
"Let me return to your concept of the family as a ?, that they may be in life, but at Christmas they become fused into one saturated mass of self loathing.
Try scraping 'em off you, it's worse than burnt toffee"
Hey truth, I'll call you a cab.
It's only a week now 'till New Years Eve.

Hello I'm Johnny Cash
Hello I'm Johnny Cash
Hello I'm Johnny Cash
Hello I'm Johnny Cash