When we were all but little kids
We had a secret, bleak,
A dark secret about Christmas
That we could never speak.

The build up to that day was great,
The tinsel and the shine,
The smells of cinnamon and mince,
Of gingerbread and pine.

And the presents! Oh the presents,
Laid out beneath the tree
In  the growing expectation
Of what was soon to be.

And when at last the morning dawned,
We all ran down the stair
To rip away the wrapping
And see what might be there.

A pair of socks from Uncle Bob,
A book from Grandpa Joe,
A plastic action figure from
Aunt Bea in Kokomo.

With every opened Christmas gift
Our hearts grew more subdued;
Where was that thing, that one delight
To which our hopes were glued?

That thing, so darn intangible,
The thing for which we yearn,
The thing that makes our heart beat fast
And makes our spirit burn.

The thing that never seemed to come,
The thing that set in play
Our growing disappointment
On every Christmas day.

The truth is that it that it can't exist.
There isn't such a thing.
The fact is that we've all been fooled
By glitter and the bling.

It all comes down to marketing.
It all boils down to greed.
How best to make us buy the stuff
We certainly don't need.

They sell it in the papers, sure,
In magazines as well.
But it took old Milo Farnsworth
To finally cinch the sell.

For with his television set
Christmastime was doomed.
It let those jerks hard sell their junk
Right in our living room!

You got to kill your TV set.
Just smash it on the floor.
Then stumble through that darkened room,
And open wide the door.

And stand transfixed a moment there,
A silhouette in sun.
You mustn't ever then look back;
You've got to start to run!

Just flee my little padawans!
Just run with all you've got!
Go fill your lungs with springtime air
Whose fragrance you'd forgot.

Go laugh, rejoice, be jubilant,
When you are far away,
Then stop and smell the roses that
You find along the way.

Go be the Good Samaritan.
Befriend the homeless soul.
Go clothe the naked, feed the poor.
Go make the scarred earth whole.

Go learn the time worn lesson that
Mere things cannot not bring peace.
The only gift worth giving
Requires more elbow grease.

The only gift that means a damn
They don't sell at Walmart,
Nor make in Chinese factories,
'Cause you've got to give your heart.

And isn't that where Christmas is?
Not in the things we get,
Not in the junk on TV, but
In love, we'll find it yet.