It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas and I’m listless
All signs point to chocolate hearts and lust terribly encrypted
Reservations with reservation with the annual prince
And fifteen makes him a frog again with no hope for recompense
Sugared glossing from unintended and latex filled with air
Or latex filled with heat and for once he’ll take you there
Take you there and leave you where once again you have been fooled
Once upon a time now has no ending while your thread it has no spool
Confections are not affection and perhaps crimson is just a clot
Perhaps Cupid is the victim and it he who has just been shot
His blood won’t coagulate and so his shooting arm may rot
One billion get well cards to wish him well or wish him not
Perchance to dream, perchance to stop
The door is locked
And still you knock
What is this plot?
Who has you blocked?
Roll the rock
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas but don’t miss this
Commercial lust is not love at all but the masses have it twisted.