"1, 2, 3, 4."
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
The clock on the wall says the old year's almost gone,
Moonlight's spilling through the windows until the early dawn,
Got my guitar strapped tight, tuning every string just right,
I've been teachin' chords all day, now I'm teachin' one tonight.
The venue is dressed up, but no one through the door,
Favors on every chair, confetti scattered on the floor,
My partner Kirby is chilling with his mirror wand held high,
And his hat is put on straight like he's ready for the sky.
And we don't know what tomorrow's got in store,
It be a brand-new road we've never walked before.
So we'll let the rhythm rock and roll and allow the old year to fade,
And create some magic from the memories being made.
It’s the hour of celebration,
Where the empty house still holds the station,
A rhythm for the ones who showed up for love.
Got my stereo resting on the coffee table top,
Sparkling tears from the future that never stops,
To the shimmer of the shooting stars that soar high above.
Yeah, I’ll strum my trusty guitar for the night that knows us —
The hour of celebration.
The clock strikes close — the turning hour,
The quiet air turns bright, the lights regain power,
And I can see reflections dancing in the punch glass,
Like every version of who we might become at last.
My strumming hand starts tapping time in rhyme,
A steady pulse beneath the climb,
And through the walls, our hearts still thud —
A rhythm that’s building real thick as blood.
They say you never know what’s next,
But that’s when my soul feels set,
It's peaceful and quiet at home, and yet we still play,
The opening song that can start a fresh clean day.
It’s the hour of celebration,
Where the empty house still holds the station,
A rhythm for the ones who showed up for love.
Got my stereo resting on the coffee table top,
Sparkling tears from the future that never stops,
To the shimmer of the shooting stars that soar high above.
Yeah, I’ll strum my trusty guitar for the night that knows us —
The hour of celebration.
Ohh-ohh, yeah...
So cheers to the moments you never planned,
And to the memories that made me who I am.
There ain't no need to wonder where the next story goes —
'Cause find the rhythm when the first chord flows.
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
“Count it down… count it down… raise it up… raise it up…”
It’s the hour of celebration,
Where the empty house still holds the station,
A rhythm for the ones who showed up for love.
Got my stereo resting on the coffee table top,
Sparkling tears from the future that never stops,
To the shimmer of the shooting stars that soar high above.
Yeah, I’ll strum my trusty guitar for the night that knows us —
The hour of celebration.
“Happy New Year."
