dear santa claus, my name is tim, i'm 9 and one half years of age,
i hope i'm nice enough to stay off your naughty page,
this year both of my parents died in a handsome cab disaster,
i found myself apprenticed to a cruel and hateful master,
who made me sweep his chimney as he stole my parents' money,
and sent me to an orphan's home where life is grim and crummy,
the older boys are cruel to me, they call me fat and g[redacted]y,
and the orphanage is crippled by some debts it cannot pay,
the landlord mr. stretin says if we can't pay the rent,
we'll all be out in the street to turn tricks in the gent,
i look around and all i see are children no one's ever loved,
not by mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, even god above
so for christmas i don't want a doll, a teddy, or toy glider
all i ask for this year
I S A G I A N T R O B O T S P I D E R
to avenge myself upon those who would wound me with impunity
i'll bring my mecharachnid to both them and their community
the people of london will soon regret what they have done
when on boxing day they look up to see what blocks out the sun
demolishing their homes with each terrible footfall
smashing with it's mandibles the orphanage's walls
those older boys will soon recant the insults they had hurled
as their bones are crushed, their stomachs burst, their entrails all unfurled
"hey mr. stretin, you were right! i am out in the street!"
and now i'll nail you to it with with my massive spiky feet
there's my old master on his knees, swearing he'll return the cash!
until a jet of napalm turns both him, and it, to ash
i'll terrorize this nation from dundee to bigglesway
and society will cower at the monster it has made
eyes once looked away now staring terrified at me,
that's what i want for christmas,
barring that i'd like a wii |