It's the biggest taboo going, hard for the Average Joe to grasp
why my maudlin mood seems to be out in force
of course, I never meant it to go this far
but those Three Kings Of Orient are getting on my tits
bored out of my wits with the same old performance
every single year, the songs grate on me
and the decor makes me sick
I detest inebriated revellers, and it doesn't stop at this.
What's eating me is the amount of propaganda on the TV -
I've next to no hope of finding the remote -
so I'll have to sit, and of course, submit,
to the wonders of the latest toys and games - that one talks, that one sings,
that one's got lights, that one speaks French - I'm not the slightest bit impressed,
truth be told, I'm ashamed of the fact that I've come to feel like this
who on earth hates Christmas when they've got kids?
I can't bloody well stand it, the hype, the extortion
all the expense, it's supposed to be a Christian celebration
- but I've seen no faith in a single soul yet.
Jesus pleaded for the children to come to know Him
not to be spoilt, unruly, over-stimulated brats
the rich rob the rich through their thoughts and desires
that could be used far better for those who lack
it's in the Book.
I wish I could hibernate sometimes
and just show my face on Christmas Day
pretend that everything's okay, I've just taken some time out
some time away, I don't care to spend my days out shopping
sod what the papers say.
I'll do my bit for family, as you'd imagine would be the norm -
but as for 'Festive Fever' I find it humiliating
it brings me out in hives and a relentless cold sweat
to see grannies bouncing off the walls
old enough to know better, I've never cared to conform.
To my heightened senses, December bears the signature scent
of tragedy, not cranberry or clementine as we're led to believe
peaceful idyll dismembered by shock telephone calls
looks deceive as gilded tears fall, carefully hidden
from the younger generation, it's forbidden to give the impression
of being anything but strong. Wrong! So wrong!
I've given up trying to lift my depression at this grey time of year
as for Christmas cheer, it's an alien concept, since I've wept
every Christmas since the age of twelve.
The only thing that appeals is drinking myself stupid -
regardless of the ill effects, I drink to forget
to wallow and eventually drown in the shallow pool of regret
the hole which I dug myself and bawled into it
one of life's rejects, there are no friends to share the burdens
nobody to help me prepare a feast and lay a table
since I've built these walls and shut the curtains around my heart
I dare not open them and attempt to be welcoming.
It hurts me to think how it was once possible for me
to enjoy the affair, and if truth be told I once did
back in younger days, before I had kids to be indulged,
I adore them, but they don't deserve for me to divulge
the pain I feel, how I deplore the charade of the painted smile
all the while I want to kick and scream
because part of them knows I'm not really here
to share the dream they hold so dear.
I feel bad for them, they'll never fully understand
what goes on inside my head, it's complex, and when I'm wrecked
it all comes pouring out - but not here, not now - not today
not during the Season of Goodwill, though I spare no thought
for anyone, it makes me ill to think of families relaxed and happy
2.4 children, even the pets get spoilt, I guess it might be a touch of envy
though I'm disgusted to say, I guess I've had to learn the hard way
I hate Christmas day, I'm a Christian and I've got kids,
there, I've said it, God forbid they read this.