Nutter

Merry Christmas, baby

Had three short stories in mind

But then work got crazy

And I found out I didn't have no time

So now I'm writin' this shitty poem

To get my fuckin' words up in your dome

Do you like the way it tickles your holes?

Ride my words like it's a pole

I promise something special in twenty nineteen

Trump won't get his wall, the world'll be pristine

Words for the world: legalize green

Don't eat yellow snow, it'll make you mean

Merry Christmas, baby

Santa's a man or a woman, or just in between

Kids don't care as long as it's fun

And they'd still die even if they had a gun

Where am I going? Why am I here?

I'm only trying my hardest, my damnedest to steer

Your mind to dark places, to bring in the light

Because it only gets bright after the night

TK International is next up for you

Words are universal, so don't sniff glue

Communication is key, unless your brain is fried

Did I say I knew where I was going? Too bad, I lied

Merry Christmas, baby

I hear it's pretty cold outside

Come have a drink that I've drugged, and then be assaulted

Yeah, that song seems "fine"

What if Santa was a robot?

Oh, I already wrote that one

Was gonna do a prequel

But it stopped being fun

How about a world where Christmas was the only day you could buy expensive shit?

Rich fucks would game it somehow, poor women couldn't afford milk in their tits

That was another tale I wanted to tell

But there wasn't enough time, and, uh, yeah, well

Merry Christmas, baby

Work is crazy

My mind's in the gutter

It's the only way to cope with being a nutter

I can't wait until the twenty-sixth