Wake up, it’s christmas mourn
Those loved have long since gone
The stocking are hung but who cares
Preserved for those no longer there
Six feet beneath me sleep

Black lights hang from the tree
Accents of dead holly

Whoa mistletoe
I’m seeing ghost
Red water
Red water
Red water chase them away

My tables been set for but seven
Just last year I dined with eleven
 [bad word] ye merry gentlemen

Whoa mistletoe
I’m seeing ghosts
Red water
Red water
Red water chase them away.

R.I.P. - Peter Steele (Brooklyn, 4 Jan 1962 -- Brooklyn, 14 Apr 2010)