The burning eyes of Jack-o-lanterns,
never moved me, the rush of holidays.
The red lips of ghosts, and the white
tongue of vipers, the rush of holidays.
The sugars for a thousand roaches,
people walking down my yard..
The fireplace has not been used.
Thursday morning comes, Macy's
Day Parade, oh, the rush of holidays.
The blessing of family and faithful God,
family moves in for one whole day,
a thousand memories flow before the evening fades.
The next morning turns into a traffic jam.
The fireplace was talked about that day.
Christmas is breathed into the air,
as much as commercials blare through my ears.
Giving, Giving, Giving,
and the King is born.
The fireplace must have fire today.
