Christmas in America

Twas five days before Christmas and all through the streets
There were only plows plowing but not a man’s feet

No one was walking the road white and clean
Though it seemed so much closer if you know what I mean

The stockings were thrown on a book by a chair
That no one had opened; they had not a care

Their bellies were full and the TV was on
As they sat in warm houses like nothing was wrong

Destruction and darkness waited outside their door
To kill all the children of that most wretched whore

Bright lights on their trees with the angels on top
Would be all that was left of that most worthless crop

They would not fall down or ask for forgiveness
So there weren’t any left to respond to this witness