Business, business, all life short
We work to provide for the ones we failed to abort
Happiness? Adults know nothing of the sort
Yet we allow brats to cavort.

Oh, poor little grown-ups, hung by a thread
On a hotel ceiling, or awake with the dead
The carefree kids celebrate instead
And dance their way to oblivion's bed...

The children shape effigies in the snow
And speak of a future that they'll never know
Ebullient eyes, bright and unafraid
Will despair when the snowmen are melting away...

Melting away...
Melting away to their dismay...

Sickness, sickness, trouble and pox
Sylvan midgets in storm-worn workshops
Crimson hue on the toys in the box
And edible coins from a fat man's socks.
 [bad word] heavy [bad word] to a crawl
Pretend it's fun when the snowflakes fall
The fireplace fades to a simmering pall
And the little ones learn to manipulate dolls.

The children spread their wings in the snow [bad word] cherubs on wings of sorrow
Mittens shape frost like lumps of clay
That will scorch in the sun and fall to decay

Fall to decay...
Fall to decay and fade to gray...

Xmas lights are the bondage cords
Gift wrapped dollies for the gibbering hordes
Plastic dreams for the lost and ignored
All slaves to the [bad word] climb aboard!

It's Xmas time in the circus for the living
Nobody has the time for love or forgiving
smile on the face for the same old thing
Choirs filled with heirs sing to the dead shells, shivering...

Let's wrap this up!
(With) Cash for the merchandise
Cash for the little tykes
Cracks in the core of a frozen paradise!