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letra de the van pelt parties - patterson hood

the van pelt parties would go late into the night
intellectuals and artists and socialites
grownups 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 the drinks were spilled
punch and mistletoe, stolen kisses, stolen pills
i surmised, holding court alonе upstairs
the complexities of dirty jokеs and grown up love affairs
oh the secrets that spill out amongst the xmas cheer

by fourteen i had figured out that no one else would notice
if i helped myself to xmas punch and quietly get loaded
that the jokes would all get funnier, mistakes less duly noted
blurry lights out car windows heading home
at 2am, on xmas morning
2am xmas morning

the van pelt house, stood high upon the hill
a block from university, i guess it’s standing still
i haven’t been in a long time, the sands of time will k!ll you
the sands of time will k!ll you
now they’re gone and i have moved along
to punch bowls and drunken xmas parties of my own
that are somehow less mysterious now that i am grown
now i am grown with kids all my own
and the sins of my youth are making me atone
those hands of time they k!ll and cut
i miss those van pelt parties so much

- patterson hood

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