If Santa saw us now,
His copious joy might melt
And stain his white palace black.

Oh, if the jolly fat man saw us now,
Our black bells ringing scarlet,
The white snow-globe flakes flowing ******,
And the consumerist *******
Selling love for slick green and silver;
Oh, if he saw these rabid dogs,
Chewing flesh and spitting bone
for an iPhone,
His joy would end right there.

If Santa came down off his throne,
And saw our minty venom saturating sacks
Staining toys meant for joy,
His steel boots rusty from snow;
Oh, with this glance he takes upon us,
Witnessing a competition of hate,
He’d scribble his two lists black,
And his red joviality would pierce homes,
With death,
And holiday.