[Intro] We all said, “Never again.” And here we are. Same table. Same jokes. Same storm. [Verse 1] Coats on hooks, boots in a pile, forced “you look great” small-talk smile. All the things we swore we’d never do waiting by the door like uninvited crew. You put the roast down, hands still sore, I wipe the counter like the year before. Someone laughs, “At least we’re all still here,” and it lands somewhere between relief and fear. [Pre-Chorus] We spent twelve months saying, “Next time, no,” one weak “hi” and here we go. [Chorus] Same time next year, we’ll do this all again, same tired stories, same half-fixed pain. Same time next year, we’ll swear, “No more,” then pull up the same old chair to the same old floor. We raise a glass to “never again,” knowing too well we will. Same time next year, same bad jokes, same ghosts we never kill. [Verse 2] Your mother smooths the tablecloth, says, “Let’s not fight tonight, alright.” Your father almost starts that speech, then stops, for one brief second, all the volume drops. Your sister helps me with the plates, mumbles, “’Bout the other day… I was out of line.” I shrug it off, “It’s fine, we’re good,” and for three seconds, it almost feels like it could. [Pre-Chorus 2] Kids run circles, tinsel crowns, for them it’s just lights, not battlegrounds. [Chorus] Same time next year, we’ll “do it right,” no more cold wars dressed as a silent night. Same time next year, we’ll “talk it through,” say all the things we choke on instead of joking them askew. We clink our glasses, cheeks all red, flushed from more than wine instead. Same time next year, “we’ll be better,” we’ve written that line on every letter. [Bridge] Like drunks on January morning swearing off the poison taste, we stack our vows like dirty dishes, knowing most will go to waste. You catch my eye across the room, mouth “sorry” you won’t say out loud. I roll mine, then half-smile back, traitor warmth beneath the cloud. For one small, stupid holy beat it feels like maybe we could change, like all the hurt was just bad weather and not our permanent middle name. [Verse 3] Then someone makes that lazy joke, the one that always hits too deep, your uncle starts on politics, your aunt drinks more than she can keep. I feel my jaw clench on its own, you reach for yet another glass, kids get told to “go play nice,” the moment’s gone. It didn’t last. [Pre-Chorus 3] We were this close to being different. Habit got there first. [Final Chorus] Same time next year, we’ll say, “We’re done, we won’t call this mess ‘festive fun’.” Same time next year, we’ll swear, “No more,” no more staging peace on a losing floor. But here we are with knives and grace, passing love and quiet rage around the place. We say, “Next Christmas, we’ll be new,” while doing everything we said we wouldn’t do. Same time next year, we’ll still be here, half in hope and half in fear. And still, beneath the smoke and spite, someone squeezes someone’s hand and says, “I’m glad you came tonight.” [Hook] Same time next year, we never learn, we just return, we just return. Same time next year, same old fight, same old “sorry”, same goodnight. Same time next year, we raise that glass, toast to the future, drink to the past. Same time next year, we curse, we cheer… and somehow still show up right here. [Outro] In the hallway, lights turned off, we mumble, “Next year… maybe not.” For one brief, tired, honest moment, we actually mean it. Then we put on our coats, kiss the air, and everyone knows we’ll see each other… same time next year.
