The queues all start early, three months in advance,
And the kids are all lost in the toys that they have,
We're told how to feel, and we're told what to spend,
And our ears are bombarded by songs that don't end.

We take all our money and we give to the rich,
We feed the machine with our loaves and our fish.


For a fortnight of virtue, we just price ourselves right,
But we don't have to argue, and we don't have to fight,
For we all pray for snow, but it never comes down,
But everyone knows that it's Christmas, somehow...


The tramp he lies sleeping, all alone on the street,
Suddenly we see him, though he's been there for weeks,
We offer him comfort, and a warm festive glow,
But with new year he's forgotten - still has no where to go.

There's a lonely man sitting by himself on a chair,
The family on screen doesn't know that he's there.


For a fortnight of virtue...


So come all ye faithful, you don't have to sing,
You don't have to worship, or buy anything,
If you're happy - be happy, if you're sad - just be said,
Because it's either not worth it, or the best time you've had.

And remind us all gently on this cold silent night,
These gifts aren't for Christmas, these gifts are for life.


For a fortnight of virtue...