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One Christmas
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This is not a Christmas song: it just uses Christmas as a reference point to show how time is passing. As I played a progression of seventh chords on the guitar, a couple of lines of lyrics came to mind and I took it from there.
Free
Pop - Pop Rock
Previous peak charts position #279
Previous peak charts position in subgenre #29
Al Stravinsky
January 06, 2006
MP3 4.0 MB
128 kbps bitrate
4:19 minutes
Story behind the song
This is not a Christmas song: it just uses Christmas as a reference point to show how time is passing. As I played a progression of seventh chords on the guitar, a couple of lines of lyrics came to mind and I took it from there; trying to re-create a Small faces/Amen Corner type of sound, with the brass and overdriven Rhodes. Three guitar tracks, bass guitar, lots of backing vocals and a single lead vocal finish it off.
Lyrics
Chorus 1 One Christmas, four seasons, 52 Monday mornings, Three sixty-five times I turned out the light, Said goodnight to no-one. I'm just Counting the days Counting the days... Verse1 I'm like the Marie Celeste without the mystery Since you abandoned me. I'm an abject Aztec ruin without the history Since you deserted me. I'm the city of Troy locked in a stupid war, With a wooden horse: But no Helen of course... Chorus 2 One Christmas, four seasons, 52 Sunday papers, Three sixty-five times I turned to the right, Said goodnight to no-one, to no-one, to no-one, To no-one in particular. Counting the days Counting the days... Verse 2 I read that we've got a sieve for an ozone layer, And I'm supposed to care? So what? The world's getting hot: I'd love to live by the sea; Not sure where, but it'll come to me. And soon the only creatures on earth will be in a zoo, ...Well I've got problems too... Chorus 3 One Christmas, four seasons, 52 Monday mornings, Three sixty-five times I lifted my head, Crawled out of bed for nothing, For no-one, for no reason, No nothing in particular. Counting the days, Counting the days... Middle 8 No Royal mail, no voicemail, no email, no female: (Nothing but junk, nothing but junk). Nothing but junk mail... Guitar solo Chorus 4 One Christmas, four seasons, 52 Monday mornings, Three sixty-five times I turned out the light, Said goodnight to no-one, to no-one, to no-one, To no-one in particular. Counting the days, Counting the days... Guitar solo I'm just Counting the days, Counting the days...
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