“You’re going to hell! You’re going to hell and you’re gonna die”

Tiptoe to the kitchen, way past dark so no one listens

As quiet as a mouse, as I creep all through the house

Open up the pantry and right away this smell, it hits me

Detect it and take quickly, I dont care if I steal this cookie

Outside the trees are dancing, swaying, moonlight hits the back street

And the snow falls on the countryside, just the way that I described

I know that soon it’ll all be gone in the afternoon

There’s an ultrasound shaped like a crescent moon

I like to think the moon is made of cheese

And Santa really comes all down the chimney

And snow always builds up on the moon

And you look at me the same I do to you

Black crow, contrast in the snow

And icicles still hanging from my window

And grass holds a dirty shade of green

And my clothes tear, still, right down the seams

Lots of people I worry about, and lots of things I wish I didn’t hear

Everyday’s another day, and every years a brand new year