It's Christmas Day
Strange place to be
I'm halfway around the world from where I was this time last year

I took a plane
The ticket said to Bali
And now I'm wrapped in thick and clinging air

Fumbling for the key to
my vault of memories
where every year
that same angel would appear
Tradition lies in the arms of children

It's midday
The rain is heavy-handed
Dark earth chafes the skin between my toes

I'm out for a stroll
Red umbrella shields my shoulders
Dripping down my back is liquid snow


Have I come to escape the loss
of a childish fantasy
where every place is set, not an empty seat
Rummaging for lasting customs, the agates on the beach
Built for light to see through

Plastic trumpets are blowing
Salvaged stereo is pumping
Old and peaceful carols pass right through the woven walls

Something's a cooking
Floating sage and clove perfume
I'm ready for that full, familiar feeling