I got time to tell you, but not much left.
A tired and swollen heart, a liver that never quits, a mind split or schizoid as the docs say; that’s what I got for Christmas.
I wanted to hunt quiver buffalo so that my girlfriend SADIE could make me mix tapes and Alabama breakfast. Her quill THRILLED me, and the great chase was upon us. Nothing can stop us, not even the dawn of ROBOT MAN and his robot massage oil strategies. Magic fingers in the bed? – sure pal, you’ll see it.
What the FUCK did I get for CHRISTMAS … SHAMBLES … broken promises … ominous signs and portend’ings. My CHRISTMAS SATURNALIA EVIL SANTA PARTY HQ is FULL UP on cocaine poetry, and the MASTER of CEREMONIES has not yet arrived.
Doesn’t matter what I wanted, it’s what I get.
I was ready for the ICE PRINCESS and for LUKE and LAURA to spend the DAYS of our LIVES in DALLAS … with Mr. Rogers. Rudolf, after spending CHRISTMAS EVE getting wasted, stands TALL upon the precipice of your manor as a fat old weirdo scuttles down your chimney, delivery the bounty of whiskey pain and cigarette burns. That’s what I got for Christmas too …