Why do we seek the image in the mirror,
then trust what we see in its frame,
the self gratification of the soul,
the ugliness of the truth it hides,
reflections of the things that we hide,
seeing through others eyes,
the belief in systems of lies,
throw the veil over all that we are,
taking refuge in the shadows it casts,
hidden by the pain that we fear,
imprisoned by the words that we hear,
take solace in what you see inside,
trust in the world contained within.

The chief elf's on the bucks fizz
thinking Christmas is a big swiz
and it's Silent Night, lights out at
nine.
I wake up to the magic
and I do
I do
I do believe,
can't wait to go to sleep
on Christmas Eve

Of course,
it's a crime to fill kiddies heads
with thoughts of flying reindeers
and of a bearded man coming down
through the chimney, because
if he did that in Hackney
he'd be doing time in
Portsea.