It was the day after Christmas, and all through the town, there was laughing and cheering and carrying about. On the rooftop he hid, not making a sound. He sharpened his ax in the back of his mind. "They're all naughty not nice" he thought, with an evil smile. Christmas now meaningless, and actions vile. Give me this, and give me that. Santa's hunting little brats. I'll wield my ax, and they will fear it. I'll remind them of the Christmas spirit. Naughty, naughty; arm long list. Naughty, naughty; Santa's pissed. No more good little girls and boys, Santa's taking all the toys. I'm bringing you a red December, maybe then you'll remember.
Forgotten meanings, gained desires. Santa's mad and he's on fire. Ashes of mistletoe. Every step, melting snow. I'll find you any where you go. Everything, Santa knows. Nothing's safe from here on out. They'll be crying and screaming and running about. This time you'll remember, and then you'll see. Until then I'm burning down Christmas trees. Down the chimney I come with force and might. Should not have done what you did last night. Around the world again and again. Now, you forget me. And, who I am. All the boys and girls are spoiled. Santa's blood, starts to boil.
Presents, food and festive things. Perhaps my ax will help you see. Catastrophe and fear at hand. Mass melting of the town's snow men. This time next your, you'll all remember. Prepared you'll be, next December. My advice to all girls and boys, when you hear that familiar noise:
Remember me and all I do. All I want is friggin food. When you hear me don't be late. I want my milk and cookie plate. Thank You.
Santa's Sinners Theory ~
