I shall sit right here all day! On this very bed
There is not a thing you can do to get me out
On Christmas, I shall not make a snowman; nor ride a sled!
Instead, I will stay under the toasty blankets throughout

Because what use do I have for Christmas feasts or lights?
Or the laughter that roars in the streets below me?
In a week or so, everyone will forget about this night
Forget about the presents, the spirits, the trees

Some people call me dead inside
I call it living a pragmatic life
…
But perhaps just this once, in the spirit of Christmas
I shall sing and dance and rejoice
I shall rip open the wrappers and see what’s inside
And…
Huh?
Somehow, I simply feel alive