Christmas Eve, 1971 The family visits Granddad at the nuthouse
Vegetative, he says not a word, til the parent's are gone, then he says to the kid:
"You know what happens on Christmas Eve? He comes to town to punish the naughty
This is the scariest goddamn night of the year You see Santa Claus you run for your life!"

With seeds wrought in cruel and traumatizing fear? The madness now begins to take it's root
An evil thing lies coiled behind the tears, it wants to be awakened

On the way home, in the dark of night, his car blocks the road, he flags them down
Murderous thief in the guise of St Nick takes advantage of Dad and puts a hole in his head
Billy runs off and hides in the brush
While the jolly attacker tries to rape Mom He tears of her clothes
And she gets in a shot, so he cuts her throat open in the eyes of her son

Hot blood, frantic tears soak into the snow? He hides in the darkness, now an orphan
His parents lie butchered there before him now? His hatred starts to grow

Now a ward of the state, he calls the orphanage home
Harbours images of death, and crayon gore
Persecuted by the nuns, hypocritic evil cunts
Whipped and punished for their sins? He fears

Beat by the mother and tied to his bed, his tortured screams seem to fall on deaf ears
Forced in the face of a man that he dreads, his nightmares give way to a violent rage
Now at 18, unleashed on the world, he takes up a job at a shitty toy store
His boss is a jerk, the owner's a lush, emotional stress from a cockteasing whore

Then absurdity occurs, when he has to wear the suit
His persona takes a turn for the worse
Bastard children on his knee, he assumed the deadly role
Whispered promises of wrath most severe

A party on Christmas, Sims gets him drunk, the tease disappears with that cocksucker Andy
He follows them into the storeroom to find the most naughty perversion he must rectify
Strangles his boss with the colourful lights, boxcuts the bitch from her guts to her tits and
Finally dispatches that old drunkard Sims? Spits the old bag with a toy bow and arrow

Santa's watching? Santa's waiting? Fractured psyche contemplating
Santa's stalking? Santa's slaying? Lock your doors and then start praying
Linnea Quinley, tits so sweet, hangs, impaled on Rudolph's antlers
Still the mayhem's not complete, watch the flick, if you want more