• very werd christmaz

    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    the nightmy wife.
    Its been one week since you looked at me
    Cocked your head to the side and said Im angry.
    Five days since you laughed at me
    Saying get that together come back and see me.
    Three days since the living room
    I realized its all my fault, but couldnt tell you
    Yesterday youd forgiven me
    But itll still be two days till I say Im sorry


    How can I help it if I think youre funny when youre mad
    Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
    Im the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
    Cant understand what I mean?
    Its been one week since you looked at me
    Threw your arms in the air and said youre crazy
    Five days since you tackled me
    Ive still got the rug burns on both my knees
    Its been three days since the afternoon
    You realized its not my fault not a moment too soon
    Yesterday youd forgiven me
    And now I sit back and wait till you say youre sorry

    How can I help it if I think youre funny when youre mad
    Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
    Im the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
    Cant understand what I mean? you soon will
    I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
    I have a history of losing my shirt

    Its been one week since you looked at me
    Dropped your arms to your sides and said Im sorry
    Five days since I laughed at you
    And said you just did just what I thought you were gonna do
    Three days since the living room
    We realized were both to blame, but what could we do?
    Yesterday you just smiled at me
    Cause itll still be two days till we say were sorry
    Itll still be two days till we say were sorry
    Itll still be two days till we say were sorry
    in the home of Lake Lebarge, home of the robbie

    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    my wife got angry