I'm not a person who believes in Jesus
and I don't have the money to buy you things
but before you sit down and before you cry,
listen to the people who by and by
don't feel exactly the same as you do
and when the christmas lights go up
crumple wallets and sit on their skis,
hug their knees, climb into trees and sigh
but it doesn't mean that we can't appriciate the stuff
that glows and cinders and curles up on the rug.
And I do mean presents and I do mean things,
I've shouted and I've poisoned and I've stamped all over these;
but forgive my mistakes and invite me in
stinking of larger and cigerettes, and thin,
bitter and ungrateful, road weary and sad,
love us all the same as a 1 year old girl
and don't be suspicious that we don't believe in misle-toe
or santa, or ever believed in santa at all,
and if snow was an option would rather take leaves,
would pack up the baubles and have pizza to go
instead of red, gold, cheer, soft foods and new things.
Christmas just pollaxed myself and my life
and I'm sitting here writing, hiding from the strife,
avoiding washing up, still, after two weeks.
Give me a chance oh lovers of the season,
give me an ipod, give me a reason.
Surprise us, find us, say nothing, don't blind us.
Christmas is a time,
I am a man and
for 19 years it's been like sleeping in a van.
We can all make choices and each son and daughter,
each has a special story,
each loves laughter.
When the tree goes up and everyone wants to turn into gold spare a thought for everyone who feels like they're still made of lead. My christmas philosophy is that those who love the holidays might enjoy christmas without allowing themselves to be offended by people like me who don't like christmas.
Everyone should love each other but love your day enough to raise it above the difference in opinion. Don't expect us to wear our crape paper hats and if we do don't think that a grumpy face underneath it is a slander. We want to be loved when there is love going around but, to us, christmas is too spiky to love on top of.
We've been walking for a whole year and christmas is pretty, the smells are great and we can all sit back and enjoy it when we get to the door. It's nice and we can drink all day and catch up on the moral movies that we would never watch otherwise.
There will be a year when I won't accept gifts at christmas time. I'll get drunk and embarres someone but I wont go into town and I wont go into the shops to to drag my brain through loose and dehydrated remembered versions my friends and family. That year on christmas day, before lunch, i want to hug someone tightly and wish him or her a happy christmas. If they don't grieve because my heart isn't threaded on the christmas thread my day would be perfect. Next year, after a perfect christmas the year before, I might bring my own antlers.
If there weren't people for whom christmas was a time of sadness, or a period of stress and bad memories, I we might go out and buy those luxury goods that we all want anyway. The grumpy teenager in the corner would feel guilty if the neat intelligence of digital gadgets and the stainless steel were pilled next to their cardboard offering. The people who feel let down by christmas drag the rest of you down but think that if we weren't responsible for your day, if you let us love to hate it and let us love you loving it without us and smiled at frowns and didn't push the point, you might get a perfect present and have a perfect day.
and I don't have the money to buy you things
but before you sit down and before you cry,
listen to the people who by and by
don't feel exactly the same as you do
and when the christmas lights go up
crumple wallets and sit on their skis,
hug their knees, climb into trees and sigh
but it doesn't mean that we can't appriciate the stuff
that glows and cinders and curles up on the rug.
And I do mean presents and I do mean things,
I've shouted and I've poisoned and I've stamped all over these;
but forgive my mistakes and invite me in
stinking of larger and cigerettes, and thin,
bitter and ungrateful, road weary and sad,
love us all the same as a 1 year old girl
and don't be suspicious that we don't believe in misle-toe
or santa, or ever believed in santa at all,
and if snow was an option would rather take leaves,
would pack up the baubles and have pizza to go
instead of red, gold, cheer, soft foods and new things.
Christmas just pollaxed myself and my life
and I'm sitting here writing, hiding from the strife,
avoiding washing up, still, after two weeks.
Give me a chance oh lovers of the season,
give me an ipod, give me a reason.
Surprise us, find us, say nothing, don't blind us.
Christmas is a time,
I am a man and
for 19 years it's been like sleeping in a van.
We can all make choices and each son and daughter,
each has a special story,
each loves laughter.
When the tree goes up and everyone wants to turn into gold spare a thought for everyone who feels like they're still made of lead. My christmas philosophy is that those who love the holidays might enjoy christmas without allowing themselves to be offended by people like me who don't like christmas.
Everyone should love each other but love your day enough to raise it above the difference in opinion. Don't expect us to wear our crape paper hats and if we do don't think that a grumpy face underneath it is a slander. We want to be loved when there is love going around but, to us, christmas is too spiky to love on top of.
We've been walking for a whole year and christmas is pretty, the smells are great and we can all sit back and enjoy it when we get to the door. It's nice and we can drink all day and catch up on the moral movies that we would never watch otherwise.
There will be a year when I won't accept gifts at christmas time. I'll get drunk and embarres someone but I wont go into town and I wont go into the shops to to drag my brain through loose and dehydrated remembered versions my friends and family. That year on christmas day, before lunch, i want to hug someone tightly and wish him or her a happy christmas. If they don't grieve because my heart isn't threaded on the christmas thread my day would be perfect. Next year, after a perfect christmas the year before, I might bring my own antlers.
If there weren't people for whom christmas was a time of sadness, or a period of stress and bad memories, I we might go out and buy those luxury goods that we all want anyway. The grumpy teenager in the corner would feel guilty if the neat intelligence of digital gadgets and the stainless steel were pilled next to their cardboard offering. The people who feel let down by christmas drag the rest of you down but think that if we weren't responsible for your day, if you let us love to hate it and let us love you loving it without us and smiled at frowns and didn't push the point, you might get a perfect present and have a perfect day.