[00:00.000] 作曲 : Patterson Hood
[00:15.630]The Van Pelt parties go late into the night
[00:19.260]Intellectuals and artists and socialites
[00:23.330]Grown-ups getting wasted and eating appetizers
[00:27.200]And me, I was maybe eight years old
[00:30.770]Watching everyone line up at the punch bowl
[00:34.620]Allegations of things about which I didn't know yet
[00:40.900]Artifacts and art filled up where they lived
[00:44.220]Hardwood floors and antique rugs where drinks were spilled
[00:48.380]Punch and mistletoe, stolen kisses, stolen pills
[00:52.050]I surmised, holding court alone upstairs
[00:55.860]The complexity of dirty jokes and grown-up love affairs
[00:59.710]Oh, the secrets that spill out amongst the Christmas cheer
[01:05.710]By fourteen, I'd figured out that no one else would notice
[01:09.440]If I helped myself to Christmas punch and sullenly get loaded
[01:13.350]The jokes would all get funnier, mistakes less duly noted
[01:17.010]Blurry lights out car windows headed home
[01:22.620]2 a.m., Christmas morning
[01:34.100]2 a.m., Christmas morning
[01:42.230]The Van Pelt House stood high upon the hill
[01:45.820]A block from University, I guess it's standing still
[01:49.690]Haven't been in a long time, the sands of time will kill you
[01:55.620]The sands of time will kill you
[02:00.890]Now they're gone and I have moved along
[02:04.950]To punch bowls and drunken Christmas parties of my own
[02:09.020]Somehow less mysterious now that I am grown
[02:16.130]Now I'm grown with kids all my own
[02:20.250]The sins of my youth are making me atone
[02:24.320]Those hands of time, they kill and cut
[02:27.740]I miss those Van Pelt parties so much

作曲 : Patterson Hood
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
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
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
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
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