Children Of December

All the parents of the children
Of December have a clutch
'Cause their birthdays are
The hardest to remember
When you're born on Christmas
Or the day before New Year's
They can sing "Happy Birthday"
But, but, but nobody hears them

I was lucky I was born
In the summer of 1975
It was as hot as an oven
Families that were loving
Each other in November
By April were planning
On their new family member

Save one for the empirical boy
With his empirical toys
The Hot Wheels, the Autobots
And the Decepticons
And everyone's waiting
To see what he's worth
But he is invincible
Like a breeze on the earth

I was holding something
In my hands so tightly
I was afraid to let it go
I was afraid to even know
I was holding something
In my heart so tightly
I was afraid to let it go
Woah, woah, woah, woah

Oh, when you're born in December
And no one remembers
Well, the '90s have ended
So what do you call this decade?

I hold every person
I meet like a treasure
I defend the ones I love
To whatever the end is
And that's why I take it
To you through the music
'Cause when the music's connected
It's like everyone's protected

January is for Rosie
God bless Rosie
February's for Tim
We all know about him
March is for my mama
Still writing in Dighton
And April is for my
My, my, my, my papa

May, give the drummer some
June is for the bass
Mine's July, July, July
July, July, July, July
All the parents of the children
Of December have a clutch
When you're born on Christmas
Or the day before New Year's
They can sing "Happy Birthday"
But, but, but, but, but, but, but, but

Make a little noise
Make a little sound

Oh, when you're born in December
And it's hard to remember
Well, the '90s have ended
So what do you call this decade?