This home is not my own in any sense,
I'm the space person who came travelling.
And like The Doctor, I've changed in many ways
but they'll be no special on Christmas Day.

Mum's got the kettle on,
kitchen radio with the same old songs.
Fairytale of New York,
F-Slur, everybody sings along.

And their lips will whisper of the folks they knew,
the blokes who wore their sister's shoes,
of the panto dame, of A-lad-in Drag,
Of ladles and jellyspoons.

Crossing out your gendered cards,
Giving gifts; We'll see who the spenders are.
Stick a penny in the gender jar
and on the first of Jan, we'll know who your real friends are.

Nuclear families on the TV;
John Lewis don't advertise to me.
A fragrance for him and her;
but what's for them under the tree?

Childhood memories hanging from the branches,
souvenirs, the story of a family
that no longer fits the narrative
of Christmas Normativity.

And in the morning, see if Santa's been
Your new pyjamas but your old routine.
Say "It's just what you've always wanted"
Your first hair dryer; Your grandma's nail polish.

They say you can't change your family but you can.
They say you don't choose your family but you do.

They say you can't change your family but you absolutely can;
They say you don't choose your family but they have to choose you too.

Crossing out your gendered cards,
Giving gifts; We'll see who the spenders are.
Stick a penny in the gender jar
and on the first of Jan, we'll know who your real friends are.