When Christmas time comes around,
Christmas lights are hung
Outside everywhere.
On houses on trees on bushes and lamp posts.
But I'll tell you a secret,
These aren't lights!
No sir, they are stars.
Fallen, jealous stars.
Envious for once that they must
Hover above the magnificent world
Below them.
Because when pine trees' branches
Are heavy with snow,
And our hearts
Are heavy with love,
And when nights are quiet and still,
Because of the cold,
Our world is a better place.
To be a part of the  world below them,
The stars willingly jump from the sky,
Like baby birds jumping from nests.
They soar and float through the winter air,
Surfing through the breeze,
On surf boards make of luck
Until they land in the safe arms of
The Christmas Light Factory.
Careful! They're hot
-don't touch them just yet,
They'll find their own way into
Strands of wires,
So that we can hang them
On our roofs and trees and bushes,
So they can be part of us
Instead of above us.
That's why sir,
When we drive around the neighborhood,
Looking at the lights,
My eyes are always closed.
Murmuring wishes yet to be granted,
Because I know better than
To be fooled by
The lights that are actually stars.