Uncle John’s Cosmic Christmas 🎄

gritty, distorted mathematical Cosmic Christmas" Irish Punk"Jig-to-Thrash" traditional folk G Major Irish folk) 120 BPM, accelerates blistering 210 BPM, Tin Whistle or Fiddle high, trilling melodyG — C — D — G long, ringing sudden, sharp "one-two-three-four!" count-in Bass "walking kick drum, A classic 6/8 Celtic Jig feel, but played with the aggression of a punk gallop, • G — C ( • G — D ( • G — C ( • D — G Riverdance influence hits, The melody should be a series of rapid-fire sixteenth notes • C — G • C — D The ghosts of Christmas • Em — C • D — G "Blackout" BridgeThe Mosh • Instrumentation: The tempo shifts from 6/8 time to a straight, driving 4/4 Hardcore Punk beat, Total chaos, The "Space Jam" Power chords only, • G5 — F5 — C5 — G5 A frantic Fiddle solo Intro: A warm, acoustic guitar shuffle with a tambourine shaking like sleigh bells, ) Verse 1

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Verse 1 I’m tripping through a high Christmas The living room is breathing like a lung Aunt Linda’s wearing neon From a century I’ve been on And the carols sound like bells that haven’t rung. The wallpaper is melting in the heat Of a thousand tiny spirits at my feet I’m hiding in the hallway near the coats Watching dust motes turn to silver-bottomed boats. Verse 2 I’m drifting through a high Christmas The gravy boat is whispering my name The cousins look like lions In the House of Golden Scions And no one’s face stays quite the same. My brother’s talking politics and gear But his words are turning purple in my ear I’m nodding like a Buddha on the rug While the Christmas tree gives me a glowing hug. Chorus And the tinsel is a river made of glass Watching all the ghosts of Christmas pass The turkey is a temple on a plate And I’m just trying to keep my vision straight. The "Space" Jam (The Peak) (The music gets swirlier, with a heavy, melodic bass line taking the lead) Grandpa’s snoring is a low-end blues The cat is wearing tiny velvet shoes I’ve been staring at this ornament for years It’s a crystal ball that’s washing out my fears The doorbell rings—is that the pizza man? Or a traveler from a distant, astral clan? The wrapping paper’s screaming "Ho Ho Ho" And the carpet is a meadow made of dough. Verse 3 I’m tripping through a high Christmas Just trying to find my way back to the couch The fruitcake is a mountain And the punch bowl is a fountain Of a secret that I’m trying not to avouch. The lights are tracing circles in the air There’s a halo on every folding chair. Outro May your family be kind and your stash be deep And may you find a quiet place to sleep. Yeah, may all your Christmases... (Fading out with a twangy, echoed guitar solo) Be a long, strange, snowy trip... Don't let the tinsel slip... Merry Cosmic Christmas to all

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